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NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY 


EDWARD    P.   ROE 

AUTHOR  OF  "BARRIERS  BURNED  AWAY,"  "A  YOUNG  GIRL'S  WOOING, 

"NEAR  TO  NATURE'S  HEART,"  "THE  OPENING  OF 

A  CHESTNUT  BURR,"  ,ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 


W.  HAMILTON   GIBSON   AND   F.  DIELMAN 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,    MEAD,    AND    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

All  rights  reserved. 


EI.ECTROTYPED  AND   PRINTED 


2Hjis  Book 

IS   AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED 

3To  JHg 


2054902 


PREFACE. 


"  T  AM  getting  very  tired,"  said  a  hard  brain-worker  to  me 
1-  once.  "  Life  is  beginning  to  drag  and  lose  its  zest." 
This  is  an  experience  that  can  scarcely  happen  to  one  who  has 
fallen  in  love  with  Nature,  or  become  deeply  interested  in  any 
of  her  almost  infinite  manifestations.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  of 
my  story  are  not  wholly  the  creations  of  fancy.  The  aged  man 
sketched  in  the  following  pages  was  as  truly  interested  in  his 
garden  and  fruit-trees  after  he  had  passed  his  fourscore  years  as 
any  enthusiastic  horticulturist  in  his  prime,  and  the  invalid, 
whose  memory  dwells  in  my  heart,  found  a  solace  in  flowers 
which  no  words  of  mine  have  exaggerated.  If  this  book  tends 
to  bring  others  into  sympathy  with  Nature,  one  of  its  chief 
missions  will  be  fulfilled. 

A  love  for  the  soil  and  all  the  pursuits  of  out-door  life  is  one 
of  the  most  healthful  signs  in  a  people.  Our  broad  and  diver- 
sified land  affords  abundant  opportunity  for  the  gratification  of 
every  rural  taste,  and  those  who  form  such  tastes  will  never 
complain  that  life  is  losing  its  zest.  Other  pleasures  pall  with 


vi  PREFA  CE. 

time  and  are  satiated.  We  outgrow  them.  But  every  spring  is  a 
new  revelation,  every  summer  a  fresh,  original  chapter  of  ex- 
perience, and  every  autumn  a  fruition  of  hopes  as  well  as  of 
seeds  and  buds.  Nothing  can  conduce  more  to  happiness  and 
prosperity  than  multitudes  of  rural  homes.  In  such  abodes 
you  will  not  find  Socialists,  Nihilists,  and  other  hare-brained 
reformers  who  seek  to  improve  the  world  by  ignoring  nature 
and  common-sense.  Possession  of  the  soil  makes  a  man 
conservative,  while  he,  at  the  same  time,  is  conserved. 

The  culture  of  the  land  is  no  longer  plodding,  ox-like  drudg- 
ery, nor  is  the  farm  a  place  of  humdrum,  brainless  routine. 
Science  offers  her  aid  on  every  hand,  and  beauty,  in  numberless 
forms,  is  ever  present  to  those  who  have  eyes  and  hearts  capa- 
ble of  recognizing  it.  The  farmer  has  a  literature  of  his  own, 
which  every  year  is  growing  in  proportions  and  value.  He  also 
has  time  for  the  best  literature  of  the  world.  It  is  his  own 
fault  if  he  remains  akin  to  the  clod  he  turns.  Is  it  not  more 
manly  to  co-work  with  Nature  for  a  livelihood  than  to  eke  out 
a  pallid,  pitiful  existence  behind  a  counter,  usurping  some 
woman's  place? 

Nature  is  a  good  mother,  after  all,  in  our  latitude.  She  does 
not  coddle  and  over-indulge  her  children,  but  rewards  their 
love  abundantly,  invigorates  them  if  they  dwell  in  her  presence, 
and  develops  mind  and  muscle,  heart  and  soul,  if  they  obey 
her  laws  and  seek  to  know  her  well.  Although  infinitely  rich, 
she  has  not  the  short-sighted  folly  of  those  parents  who  seek 
to  place  everything  in  the  hand  of  a  child  without  cost.  On 
the  contrary  she  says,  "  See  what  you  may  win,  what  you  may 
attain."  Every  crop  is  a  prize  to  knowledge,  skill,  industry. 
Ever)'  flower  is  a  beautiful  mystery  which  may  be  solved  in 


part ;  every  tree  is  stored  sunshine  for  the  hearth,  shelter  from 
the  storm,  a  thing  of  beauty  while  it  lives,  and  of  varied  use 
when  its  life  is  taken.  In  animals,  birds,  insects,  and  vegeta- 
tion we  are  surrounded  by  diversified  life,  and  our  life  grows 
richer,  more  healthful  and  complete,  as  we  enter  into  their  life, 
and  comprehend  it.  The  clouds  above  us  are  not  mere  reser- 
voirs of  water  for  prosaic  use.  In  their  light,  shade,  and  ex- 
quisite coloring  they  are  ever  a  reproach  to  the  blindness  of 
coarse  and  earthy  minds. 

The  love  of  Nature  is  something  that  may  be  developed  in 
every  heart,  and  it  is  a  love  that  rarely  fails  to  purify  and  exalt. 
To  many  she  is  a  cold,  indifferent  beauty.  They  see,  but  do 
not  know  and  appreciate  her,  and  she  passes  on  her  way  as  if 
they  were  nothing  to  her.  But  when  wooed  patiently  and  lov- 
ingly, she  stops  to  smile,  caress,  and  entertain  with  exhaustless 
diversion. 

In  this  simple  home  story  I  have  talked,  perhaps,  like  a  gar- 
rulous lover  who  must  speak  of  his  mistress,  even  though  his 
words  weary  others.  I  console  myself,  however,  with  the 
thought  that  my  text  has  proved  the  prosaic  root  and  stem 
which  have  given  being  to  the  exquisite  flowers  of  art  that 
adorn  these  pages.  In  Mr.  Gibson  and  Mr.  Dielman  I  have 
had  ideal  associates  in  the  work.  They  have  poured  light  on  a 
landscape  that  would  otherwise  be  dull  and  gray. 

My  characters  may  seem  shadows  to  others,  but  they  have 
become  real,  or  were  real,  to  me.  I  meet  them  still  in  walks 
and  drives  where  in  fancy  I  had  placed  them  before.  I  would 
not  have  to  go  very  far  to  find  types  of  the  children  introduced, 
but  the  lovers,  and  the  majority  of  the  others,  began  as  shad- 
ows in  the  background  of  imagination,  and  took  form  and  sub- 


viii  PREFACE. 

stance  with  time.  Dr.  Marvin,  however,  is  a  reality  and  a  most 
valued  friend,  who  has  assisted  me  greatly  in  my  work.  Any 
one  who  has  the  good-fortune  to  meet  Dr.  E.  A.  Mearns,  sur- 
geon in  the  regular  army,  can  scarcely  fail  to  recognize  in  him 
the  genial  sportsman  for  whom  the  birds  were  "  always  in  sea- 
son." There  arc  others  to  whom  I  am  indebted,  like  John 
Burroughs,  Thoreau,  Baird,  Brewer,  and  Ridgway,  true  lovers 
and  interpreters  of  Nature.  Those  living  stand  near  her 
queenly  presence ;  those  who  have  passed  on  are  doubtless 
nearer  still. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

i.    A  COUNTRY  HOME r 

n.    AMY  WINFIELD 10 

in.    A  COUNTRY  FIRESIDE 20 

iv.     GUNNING  BY  MOONLIGHT 27 

v.    CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  MORNING 33 

vi.     NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS 38 

vn.     NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN 44 

viii.     EAGLES 52 

ix.    SLEIGHING  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS 58 

x.    A  WINTER  THUNDER-STORM 65 

XL     NATURE  UNDER  GLASS 71 

xii.    A  MOUNTAINEER'S  HOVEL 76 

xin.    ALMOST  A  TRAGEDY 83 

xiv.    HINTS  OF  SPRING 99 

xv.     NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS 107 

xvi.    GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD  NEIGHBORS 114 

xvn.     FISHING  THROUGH  THE  ICE 135 

XVHI.  PLANNING  AND  OPENING  THE  CAMPAIGN    ....  141 

xix.     WINTER'S  EXIT 153 

xx.    A  ROYAL  CAPTIVE 159 

ix 


\-  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

xxi.    SPRING'S  HARBINGERS 163 

xxn.  FIRST  TIMES 167 

xxin.  REGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING 181 

xxiv.  APRIL 188 

xxv.  EASTER 193 

xxvi.  VERY  MOODY 201 

xxvii.  SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY 210 

xxvin.  MAY  AND  GIRLHOOD 218 

xxix.  NATURE'S  WORKSHOP 228 

xxx.  SPRING-TIME  PASSION 233 

xxxi.  JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES 239 

XXXII.      BURT   BECOMES    RATIONAL 250 

xxxin.    WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE 257 

xxxiv.    A  SHAM  BATTLE  AT  WEST  POINT 268 

xxxv.  CHASED  BY  A  THUNDER-SHOWER     .    .    .    .    .    .272 

xxxvi.    THE  RESCUE  OF  A  HOME 276 

xxxvii.    A  MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST 284 

xxxviii.    THE  Two  LOVERS 294 

xxxix.    BURT'S  ADVENTURE 299 

XL.    Miss  HARGROVE 309 

XLI.    A  FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 314 

XLII.     CAMPING  OUT 326 

XLIII.    AN  OLD  TENEMENT 338 

XLIV.    "BUT  HE  RISKED  HIS  LIFE?" 348 

XLV.    SUMMER'S  WEEPING  FAREWELL 355 

XLVI.     FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER 363 

XLVII.    DISQUIET  WITHIN  AND  WITHOUT 369 

XLVIII.     IDLEWILD 375 

XLIX.    ECHOES  OF  A  PAST  STORM 379 

L.     IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART 385 

LI.    WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION 394 

LII.     BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA 414 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

LIII.    BURT'S  RESOLVE 422 

LIV.    A  GENTLE  EXORCIST 427 

LV.     BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN 432 

LVI.    WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER 445 

LVII.     OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS 453 

LVIII.    THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN 460 

LVIX.     THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART 468 

LX.     CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS 476 


PAGE 

"  CONTENTS  " ix 

"  ILLUSTRATIONS  " xiii 

BARNYARD    3 

A  WINTER  MEADOW .  25 

HUNTING  BY  MOONLIGHT 31 

A  WHITE  LANDSCAPE 56 

A  WINTER  THUNDER-STORM 68 

SPRING  HERALDS 101 

THE  RABBIT  TRAP 105 

THE  SWAMP  CABBAGE  FLOWER 157 

AN  UPLAND  MEADOW 197 

SHAD-FISHING  ON  THE  HUDSON 214 

xiii 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

BLOSSOM-TIME 231 

CLOUDING  UP 293 

HE  NEVER  FORGOT  THE  PICTURE  SHE  MADE  UNDER  THE 

RUSTIC  ARCHWAY 303 

A  PASTORAL 317 

AN  UPLAND  LEDGE 324 

DISREPUTABLE  TENANTS 341 

CAUGHT  NAPPING 345 

THE  WOODPECKER  AT  HOME 346 

STORMY  WEATHER 359 

IN  THE  GLOAMING 361 

A  STORMY  DAY 373 

THE  SWOLLEN  STREAM 377 

HARVESTING 387 

THE  ORCHARD  HARVEST 419 

THE  CIDER-MILL 455 

AN  OCTOBER  OUTING 457 

"  Woo  WHOO  !  " 465 

WINTER  TWILIGHT 477 


NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   COUNTRY   HOME. 

HOW  much  it  means  —  what  possibilities  it  suggests  !  The 
one  I  shall  describe  was  built  not  far  from  half  a  century 
ago,  and  the  lapsing  years  have  only  make  it  more  homelike. 
It  has  long  ceased  to  be  a  new  object  —  an  innovation  —  and 
has  become  a  part  of  the  landscape,  like  the  trees  that  have 
grown  up  around  it.  Originally  painted  brown,  with  the  flight 
of  time  it  has  taken  a  grayish  tinge,  as  if  in  sympathy  with  its 
venerable  proprietor.  It  stands  back  from  the  roadway,  and  in 
summer  has  an  air  of  modest  seclusion.  Elms,  maples,  and 
shrubbery  give  to  the  passer-by  but  chance  glimpses  of  the 
wide  veranda,  which  is  indicated,  rather  than  revealed,  beyond 
the  thickly  clustering  vines. 

It  is  now  late  December,  and  in  contrast  with  its  leafy  retire- 
ment the  old  homestead  stands  out  with  a  sharp  distinctness  in 
the  white  landscape  ;  and  yet  its  sober  hue  harmonizes  with  the 
dark  boles  of  the  trees,  and  suggests  that,  like  them,  it  is  a 
natural  growth  of  the  soil,  and  quite  as  capable  of  clothing 
itself  with  foliage  in  the  coming  spring.  This  in  a  sense  will  be 
true  when  the  greenery  and  blossoms  of  the  wistaria,  honey- 
suckle, and  grape-vines  appear,  for  their  fibres  and  tendrils  have 


2  Ar ATI/RE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

clung  to  the  old  house  so  long  that  they  may  well  be  deemed 
an  inseparable  part  of  it.  Even  now  it  seems  that  the  warmth, 
light,  and  comfort  within  are  the  sustaining  influences  which 
will  carry  them  through  the  coming  days  of  frost  and  storm. 
A  tall  pine-tree  towers  above  the  northern  gable  of  the  dwelling, 
and  it  is  ever  sighing  and  moaning  to  itself,  as  if  it  possessed 
some  unhappy  family  secret  which  it  can  neither  reveal  nor 
forget.  On  the  hither  side  of  its  shade  a  carriage-drive  curves 
towards  an  ancient  horse-block,  with  many  a  lichen  growing  on 
the  under  side  of  the  weather-beaten  planks  and  supports. 
From  this  platform,  where  guests  have  been  alighting  for  a  gen- 
eration or  more,  the  drive  passes  to  an  old-fashioned  carriage- 
house,  in  which  are  the  great  family  sleigh  and  a  light  and  gayly 
painted  cutter,  revealing  that  the  home  is  not  devoid  of  the 
young  life  to  which  winter's  most  exhilarating  pastime  is  so 
dear.  A  quaint  corn-crib  is  near,  its  mossy  posts  capped  with 
inverted  tin  pans  much  corroded  by  rust.  These  prevent  prowl- 
ing rats  and  mice  from  climbing  up  among  the  golden  treasures. 
Still  farther  beyond  are  the  gray  old  barn  and  stables,  facing  the 
south.  Near  their  doors  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  ample  yard 
stand  half  a  dozen  ruminating  cows,  with  possibly,  between 
their  wide-branching  horns,  a  dim  consciousness  of  the  fields, 
now  so  white  and  cold,  from  which  were  cropped,  in  the  long- 
past  summer,  far  juicier  morsels  than  now  fall  to  their  lot. 
Even  into  their  sheltered  nook  the  sun,  far  down  in  the  south, 
throws  but  cold  and  watery  gleams  from  a  steel-colored  sky, 
and  as  the  northern  blast  eddies  around  the  sheltering  build- 
ings the  poor  creatures  shiver,  and  when  their  morning  airing  is 
over  are  glad  to  return  to  their  warm,  straw-littered  stalls.  Even 
the  gallant  and  champion  cock  of  the  yard  is  chilled.  With  one 
foot  drawn  up  into  his  fluffy  feathers  he  stands  motionless  in  the 
midst  of  his  disconsolate  harem  with  his  eye  fixed  vacantly  on 
the  forbidding  outlook.  His  dames  appear  neither  to  miss  nor 
to  invite  his  attentions,  and  their  eyes,  usually  so  bright  and 
alert,  often  film  in  weary  discontent.  Nature,  however,  is  ob- 


A   COUNTRY  HOME.  3 

livious  to  all  the  dumb  protests  of  the  barn-yard,  and  the  cold 
steadily  strengthens. 

Away  on  every  side  stretch  the  angular  fields,  outlined  by 
fences  that  are  often  but  white,  continuous  mounds,  and  also 
marked  'by  trees  and  shrubs  that,  in  their  earlier  life,  ran  the 
gantlet  of  the  bush-hook.  Here  and  there  the  stones  of  the 
higher  and  more  abrupt  walls  crop  out,  while  the  board  and 
rail  fences  appear  strangely  dwarfed  by  the  snow  that  has  fallen 


BARNYARD. 

and  drifted  around  them.  The  groves  and  wood-crowned  hills 
still  farther  away  look  as  drearily  uninviting  as  roofless  dwellings 
with  icy  hearth-stones  and  smokeless  chimneys.  Towering 
above  all,  on  the  right,  is  Storm  King  mountain,  its  granite 
rocks  and  precipices  showing  darkly  here  and  there,  as  if  its 
huge  white  mantle  were  old  and  ragged  indeed.  One  might 
well  shiver  at  the  lonely,  desolate  wastes  lying  beyond  it,  grim 
hills  and  early-shadowed  valleys,  where  the  half-starved  fox 
prowls,  and  watches  for  unwary  rabbits  venturing  from  their 


4  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

coverts  to  nibble  the  frozen  twigs.  The  river,  which  above  the 
Highlands  broadens  out  into  Newburgh  Bay,  has  become  a 
snowy  plain,  devoid,  on  this  bitter  day,  of  every  sign  of  life. 
The  Beacon  hills,  on  the  farther  side,  frown  forbiddingly  through 
the  intervening  northern  gale,  sweeping  southward  into  the 
mountain  gorge. 

On  a  day  like  this  the  most  ardent  lover  of  Nature  could 
scarcely  fail  to  shrink  from  her  cold,  pallid  face  and  colder 
breath.  Our  return  to  the  home,  whose  ruddy  firelight  is  seen 
through  the  frosted  window-panes,  will  be  all  the  more  welcome 
because  we  have  been  shivering  so  long  without.  The  grace  of 
hospitality  has  been  a  characteristic  of  the  master  of  the  house 
for  over  half  a  century,  and  therefore  the  reader  need  not  fear 
to  enter,  especially  at  this  Christmas-time,  when  the  world,  as 
if  to  make  amends  for  the  churlish  welcome  it  gave  to  its 
Divine  Guest,  for  whom  no  better  place  was  found  than  a  stable, 
now  throws  open  the  door  and  heart  in  kindly  feeling  and  un- 
selfish impulses. 

We  propose  to  make  a  long  visit  at  this  old-fashioned  home- 
stead. We  shall  become  the  close  friends  of  its  inmates,  and 
share  in  their  family  life ;  they  will  introduce  us  to  some  of 
their  neighbors,  and  take  us  on  many  breezy  drives  and  pleas- 
ant excursions,  with  which  it  is  their  custom  to  relieve  their 
busy  life ;  we  shall  take  part  in  their  rural  labors,  and  learn 
from  them  the  secret  of  obtaining  from  nature  that  which  nour- 
ishes both  soul  and  body ;  they  will  admit  us  to  their  confi- 
dence, and  give  us  glimpses  of  that  mystery  of  mysteries,  the 
human  heart;  and  we  shall  learn  how  the  ceaseless  story  of 
life,  with  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  joys  and  sorrows,  repeats  itself 
in  the  quiet  seclusion  of  a  country  home  as  truly  as  in  the  tur- 
moil of  the  city.  Nor  would  our  visit  be  complete  did  we  not 
witness  among  the  ripened  fruits  of  conjugal  affection  the  bud 
and  blossom  of  that  immortal  flower  which  first  opened  in 
Eden,  and  which  ever  springs  unbidden  from  the  heart  when 
the  conditions  that  give  it  life  and  sustenance  are  present. 


A    COUNTRY  HOMK.  5 

The  hallway  of  this  central  scene  of  our  story  is  wide,  and 
extends  to  a  small  piazza,  in  the  rear.  The  front  half  of  this 
family  thoroughfare,  partitioned  off  by  sliding-doors,  can  thus 
be  made  into  a  roomy  apartment.  Its  breezy  coolness  causes 
it  to  be  a  favorite  resort  on  sultry  days,  but  now  it  is  forsaken, 
except  that  a  great  heater,  with  its  ample  rotundity  and  glow- 
ing heart,  suggests  to  the  visitor  that  it  stands  there  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  host  until  he  shall  appear.  Some  portraits,  a 
fine  old  engraving,  a  map  of  the  county,  and  some  sprays  of 
evergreen  intermingled  with  red  berries,  take  away  all  bareness 
from  the  walls,  while  in  a  corner  near  the  door  stands  a  rack, 
formed  in  part  by  the  branching  antlers  of  a  stag,  on  which 
hang  fur  caps  and  collars,  warm  wraps  and  coats,  all  suggesting 
abundant  means  of.  robbing  winter  of  its  rigor.  On  hooks 
above  the  sliding-doors  are  suspended  a  modern  rifle  and  a 
double-barrelled  shot-gun,  and  above  these  is  a  firelock  musket 
that  did  good  service  in  the  Revolution. 

The  doors  opening  into  the  rear  hall  were  pushed  back,  re- 
vealing a  broad  stairway,  leading  with  an  abrupt  turn  and  a 
landing  to  the  upper  chambers.  A  cheerful  apartment  on  the 
left  of  this  hall  was  the  abode  of  an  invalid,  whose  life  for  many 
years  disease  had  vainly  sought  to  darken.  There  were  lines 
of  suffering  on  her  thin,  white  face,  and  her  hair,  once  black, 
was  silvered ;  but  it  would  seem  that,  in  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes 
of  the  patient  woman,  courage  and  hope  had  been  kindled, 
rather  than  quenched,  by  pain.  She  was  now  reclining  on  a 
sofa,  which  had  been  wheeled  near  to  a  wood-fire  glowing  on 
the  hearth  of  a  large  Franklin  stove ;  and  her  dreamy,  absent 
expression  often  gave  place  to  one  of  passing  interest  as  her 
husband,  sitting  opposite,  read  from  his  paper  an  item  of  news 
—  some  echo  from  the  busy,  troubled  world,  that  seemed  so 
remote  from  their  seclusion  and  peaceful  age.  The  venerable 
man  appeared,  however,  as  if  he  might  still  do  his  share  in 
keeping  the  world  busy,  and  also  in  banishing  its  evils.  Al- 
though time  had  whitened  his  locks,  it  had  touched  kindly  his 


6  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

stalwart  frame,  while  Jiis  square  jaw  and  strong  features  indicated  ' 
a  character  that  had  met  life's  vicissitudes  as  a  man  should 
meet  them.  His  native  strength  and  force,  however,  were  like 
the  beautiful  region  in  which  he  dwelt  —  once  wild  and  rugged 
indeed,  but  now  softened  and  humanized  by  generations  of 
culture.  Even  his  spectacles  could  not  obscure  the  friendly 
and  benevolent  expression  of  his  large  blue  eyes.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  looked  at  the  world,  as  mirrored  before  him  in  the 
daily  journal,  with  neither  cynicism  nor  mere  curiosity,  but 
with  a  heart  in  sympathy  with  all  the  influences  that  were 
making  it  better. 

The  sound  of  a  bell  caused  the  old  man  to  rise  and  assist 
his  wife  to  her  feet ;  then,  with  an  affectionate  manner,  tinged 
with  a  fine  courtesy  of  the  old  school,  he  supported  her  to  the 
dining-room,  placed  her  in  a  cushioned  chair  on  his  right,  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  and  drew  a  footstool  to  her  feet.  There 
was  a  gentleness  and  solicitude  in  his  bearing  which  indicated 
that  her  weakness  was  more  potent  than  strength  would  have 
been  in  maintaining  her  ascendency. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  family  flocked  in  with  an  alacrity 
which  proved  either  that  the  bitter  cold  had  sharpened  their 
appetites,  or  that  the  old-fashioned  one-o'clock  dinner  was  a 
cheerful  break  in  the  monotony  of  the  day.  There  was  a  mid- 
dle-aged man,  who  was  evidently  the  strong  stay  and  staff  on 
which  the  old  people  leaned.  His  wife  was  the  housekeeper 
of  the  family,  and  she  was  emphatically  the  "  house-mother," 
as  the  Germans  phrase  it.  Every  line  of  her  good,  but  rather 
care-worn,  face  bespoke  an  anxious  solicitude  about  everybody 
and  everything  except  herself.  It  was  apparent  that  she  had 
inherited  not  a  little  of  the  "  Martha  "  spirit,  and  "  was  careful 
about  many  things ;  "  but  her  slight  tendency  to  worry  saved 
others  a  world  of  worriment,  for  she  was  the  household  provi- 
dence, a»d  her  numberless  little  anxieties  led  to  so  much  pre- 
vention of  evil  that  there  was  not  much  left  to  cure.  Such 
was  her  untiring  attention  that  her  thoughtless,  growing  children 


A    COUNTRY  HOME.  J 

seemed  cared  for  by  the  silent  forces  of  nature.  Their  clothes 
came  to  them  like  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  and  her  deft  fingers 
added  little  ornaments  that  cost  the  wearers  no  more  thought 
than  did  the  blossoms  of  spring  to  the  unconscious  plants  of 
the  garden.  She  was  as  essential  to  her  husband  as  the  oxygen 
in  the  air,  and  he  knew  it,  although  demonstrating  his  knowl- 
edge rather  quietly,  perhaps.  But  she  understood  him,  and  en- 
joyed a  little  secret  exultation  over  the  strong  man's  almost 
ludicrous  helplessness  and  desolation  when  her  occasional  ab- 
sences suspended  for  a  brief  time  their  conjugal  partnership. 
She  surrounded  the  old  people  with  a  perpetual  Indian-summer 
haze  of  kindliness,  which  banished  all  hard,  bleak  outlines  from 
their  late  autumnal  life.  In  brief,  she  was  what  God  and  nature 
designed  woman  to  be  —  the  gracious,  pervading  spirit,  that 
filled  the  roomy  house  with  comfort  and  rest.  Sitting  near 
were  her  eldest  son  and  pride,  a  lad  about  thirteen  years  of  age, 
and  a  girl  who,  when  a  baby,  had  looked  so  like  a  boy  that  her 
father  had  called  her  "  Johnnie,"  a  sobriquet  which  still  clung 
to  her.  Close  to  the  mother's  side  was  a  little  embodiment  of 
vitality,  mischief,  and  frolic,  in  the  form  of  a  four-year-old  boy, 
the  dear  torment  of  the  whole  house. 

There  remain  but  two  others  to  be  mentioned,  and  the 
Clifford  family  will  be  complete,  as  constituted  at  present. 
The  first  was  the  youngest  son  of  the  aged  man  at  the  head  of 
the  table.  He  had  inherited  his  father's  features,  but  there 
was  a  dash  of  recklessness  blended  with  the  manifest  frankness 
of  his  expression,  and  in  his  blue  eyes  there  was  little  trace  of 
shrewd  calculation  or  forethought.  Even  during  the  quiet 
midday  meal  they  flashed  with  an  irrepressible  mirthfulness, 
and  not  one  at  the  table  escaped  his  aggressive  nonsense.  His 
brother,  two  or  three  years  his  senior,  was  of  a  very  different 
type,  and  seemed  somewhat  overshadowed  by  the  other's  bril- 
liancy. He  had  his  mother's  dark  eyes,  but  they  were  deep 
and  grave,  and  he  appeared  reserved  and  silent,  even  in  the 
home  circle.  His  bronzed  features  were  almost  rugged  in  their 


8  A:-J7YYiYi\Y  SERIAL  STORY. 

strength,  but  a  heavy  mustache  gave  a  touch  of  something  like 
manly  beauty  to  his  rather  sombre  face.  You  felt  instinctively 
that  he  was  one  who  would  take  life  seriously  —  perhaps  a  little 
too  seriously  —  and  that,  whether  it  brought  him  joy  or  sorrow, 
he  would  admit  the  world  but  charily  to  his  confidence. 

Burtis,  the  youngest  brother,  had  gone  through  college  after 
a  sort  of  neck-or-nothing  fashion,  and  had  been  destined  for 
•one  of  the  learned  professions;  but,  while  his  natural  ability 
had  enabled  him  to  run  the  gantlet  of  examinations,  he  had 
evinced  such  an  unconquerable  dislike  for  restraint  and  plodding 
study  that  he  had  been  welcomed  back  to  the  paternal  acres, 
which  were  broad  enough  for  them  all.  Mr.  Clifford,  by  vari- 
ous means,  had  acquired  considerable  property  in  his  day,  and 
was  not  at  all  disappointed  that  his  sons  should  prefer  the  pri- 
mal calling  to  any  other,  since  it  was  within  his  power  to  estab- 
lish them  well  when  they  were  ready  for  a  separate  domestic 
life.  It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  thus  far  the  rural 
tastes  of  Burtis  were  chiefly  for  free  out-of-door  life,  with  its 
accessories  of  rod,  gun,  and  horses.  But  Leonard,  the  eldest, 
and  Webb,  the  second  in  years,  were  true  children  of  the  soil, 
in  the  better  sense  of  the  term.  Their  country  home  had  been 
so  replete  with  interest  from  earliest  memory  that  they  had 
taken  root  there  like  the  trees  which  their  father  had  planted. 
Leonard  was  a  practical  farmer,  content,  in  a  measure,  to  follow 
the  traditions  of  the  elders.  Webb,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
disposed  to  look  past  the  outward  aspects  of  Nature  to  her 
hidden  moods  and  motives,  and  to  take  all  possible  advantage 
of  his  discoveries.  The  farm  was  to  him  a  laboratory,  and, 
with  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  old  alchemists,  he  read, 
studied,  and  brooded  over  the  problem  of  producing  the  lar- 
gest results  at  the  least  cost.  He  was  by  no  means  deficient  in 
imagination,  or  even  in  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  side  of 
nature,  when  his  thoughts  were  directed  to  this  phase  of  the 
outer  world  ;  but  his  imagination  had  become  materialistic,  and 
led  only  to  an  eager  quest  after  the  obscure  laws  of  cause  and 


A    COUNTRY  HOME.  9 

effect,  which  might  enable  him  to  accomplish  what  to  his  plod- 
ding neighbors  would  seem  almost  miraculous.  He  understood 
that  the  forces  with  which  he  was  dealing  were  well-nigh  infi- 
nite ;  and  it  was  his  delight  to  study  them,  to  combine  them, 
and  make  them  his  servants.  It  was  his  theory  that  the  energy 
in  nature  was  like  a  vast  motive  power,  over  which  man  could 
throw  the  belt  of  his  skill  and  knowledge,  and  so  produce  re- 
sults commensurate  with  the  force  of  which  he  availed  himself. 
There  was,  therefore,  an  unfailing  zest  in  his  work,  and  the  ma- 
jority of  his  labors  had  the  character  of  experiments,  which, 
nevertheless,  were  so  guided  by  experience  that  they  were 
rarely  futile  or  unremunerative.  On  themes  that  accorded  with 
his  tastes  and  pursuits  he  would  often  talk  earnestly  and  well, 
but  his  silence  and  pre-occupation  at  other  times  proved  that 
it  is  not  best  to  be  dominated  by  one  idea,  even  though  it  be  a 
large  one. 


NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   II. 

AMY    WINFIELD. 

THE  reader  may  now  consider  himself  introduced  to  the 
household  with  whom  he  is  invited  to  sojourn.  In  time 
he  will  grow  better  acquainted  with  the  different  members  of 
the  family,  as  they  in  their  several  ways  develop  their  own  indi- 
viduality. A  remark  from  old  Mr.  Clifford  indicates  that  an- 
other guest  is  expected,  who,  unlike  ourselves,  will  be  present 
in  reality,  not  fancy,  and  who  is  destined  to  become  a  perma- 
nent inmate  of  the  home. 

"  This  is  a  bitter  day,"  he  said,  "  for  little  Amy  to  come  to 
us ;  and  yet,  unless  something  unforeseen  prevents,  she  will  be 
at  the  station  this  evening." 

"  Don't  worry  about  the  child,"  Burtis  responded,  promptly  ; 
"  I'll  meet  her,  and  am  glad  of  an  excuse  to  go  out  this  horrid 
day.  I'll  wrap  her  up  in  furs  like  an  Esquimau." 

"Yes,  and  upset  her  in  the  drifts  with  your  reckless  driving," 
said  good-natured  Leonard.  "  Thunder  is  wild  enough  at  any 
time  ;  but  of  late,  between  the  cold,  high  feeding,  and  idleness, 
he'll  have  to  be  broken  over  again  :  lucky  jf  he  don't  break 
your  neck  in  the  operation.  The  little  girl  'will  feel  strange 
enough,  anyway,  coming  among  people  that  she  has  never  seen, 
and  I  don't  intend  that  she  shall  be  frightened  out  of  her  wits 
into  the  bargain  by  your  harum-scarum  ways.  You'd  give  her 
the  impression  that  we  were  only  half-civilized.  So  I'll  drive 
over  for  her  in  the  family  sleigh,  and  take  Alf  with  me.  He 
will  be  nearer  her  own  age,  and  help  to  break  the  ice.  If  you 


AMY   in X FIELD.  II 

want  a  lark,  go  out  by  yourself,  and  drive  where  you  please, 
after  your  own  break-neck  style." 

"  Leonard  is  right,"  resumed  Mr.  Clifford,  emphatically. 
"  The  ward  committed  to  me  by  my  dear  old  friend  should  be 
brought  to  her  home  with  every  mark  of  respect  and  affection 
by  the  one  who  has  the  best  right  to  represent  me.  I'd  go 
myself,  were  not  the  cold  so  severe ;  but  then  Leonard's  ways 
are  almost  as  fatherly  as  my  own ;  and  when  his  good  wife 
there  gets  hold  of  the  child  she'll  soon  be  fused  into  the  family, 
in  spite  of  the  zero  weather.  She'll  find  all  the  cold  without 
the  door." 

"  I  yield,"  said  Burtis,  with  a  careless  laugh.  "  Len  shall 
bring  home  the  little  chick,  and  put  her  under  his  wife's  wing. 
I  should  probably  misrepresent  the  family,  and  make  a  bad  first 
impression  ;  and  as  for  Webb,  you  might  as  well  send  the  under- 
taker for  her." 

"  I  don't  think  she  will  feel  strange  among  us  very  long,"  said 
Leonard's  wife.  "  She  shall  hang  up  her  stocking  to-night,  like 
the  other  children,  and  I  have  some  nice  little  knick-knacks 
with  which  to  fill  it.  These,  and  the  gifts  which  the  rest  of  you 
have  provided,  will  delight  her,  as  they  do  all  little  people,  and 
make  her  feel  at  once  that  she  is  part  of  the  family." 

"  Maggie  expresses  my  purpose  fully,"  concluded  Mr.  Clifford. 
"  As  far  as  it  is  within  our  power,  we  should  make  her  one  of 
the  family.  In  view  of  my  friend's  letters,  this  is  the  position 
that  I  desire  her  to  sustain,  and  it  will  be  the  simplest  and  most 
natural  relation  for  us  all.  Your  mother  and  I  will  receive  her 
as  a  daughter,  and  it  is  my  wish  that  my  sons  should  treat  her 
as  a  sister  from  the  first." 

Amy  Winfield,  the  subject  of  the  above  remarks,  was  the  only 
daughter  of  a  gentleman  who  had  once  been  Mr.  Clifford's  most 
intimate  friend,  and  also  his  partner  in  many  business  transac- 
tions. Mr.  Winfield  had  long  resided  abroad,  and  there  had  lost 
the  wife  whom  he  had  married  rather  late  in  life.  When  feeling 
his  own  end  drawing  near,  his  thoughts  turned  wistfully  to  the 


12  XAT(rRE'X  SERIAL   STORY. 

friend  of  his  early  manhood,  and,  as  he  recalled  Mr.  Clifford's 
rural  home,  he  felt  that  he  could  desire  no  better  refuge  for  his 
child.  He  had  always  written  of  her  as  his  "  little  girl,"  and 
such  she  was  in  his  fond  eyes,  although  in  fact  she  had  seen 
eighteen  summers.  Her  slight  figure  and  girlish  ways  had  never 
dispelled  the  illusion  that  she  was  still  a  child,  and  as  such  he 
had  commended  her  to  his  friend,  who  had  responded  to  the 
appeal  as  to  a  sacred  claim,  and  had  already  decided  to  give 
her  a  daughter's  place  in  his  warm  heart.  Mr.  Winfield  could 
not  have  chosen  a  better  guardian  for  the  orphan  and  her  prop- 
erty, and  a  knowledge  of  this  truth  had  soothed  the  last  hours 
of  the  dying  man. 

It  struck  Leonard  that  the  muffled  figure  he  picked  up  at  the 
station  and  carried  through  the  dusk  and  snow  to  the  sleigh  was 
rather  tall  and  heavy  for  the  child  he  was  expecting ;  but  he 
wrapped  her  warmly,  almost  beyond  the  possibility  of  speaking, 
or  even  breathing,  and  spoke  the  hearty  and  encouraging  words 
which  are  naturally  addressed  to  a  little  girl.  After  seeing  that 
her  trunks  were  safely  bestowed  in  a  large  box-sledge,  under  the 
charge  of  black  Abram,  one  of  the  farm-hands,  he  drove  rapidly 
homeward,  admonishing  Alfred,  on  the  way,  "to  be  sociable." 
The  boy,  however,  had  burrowed  so  deep  under  the  robes  as 
to  be  invisible  and  oblivious.  When  Leonard  was  about  to  lift 
her  out  of  the  sleigh,  as  he  had  placed  her  in  it,  the  young  girl 
protested,  and  said, 

"  I  fear  I  shall  disappoint  you  all  by  being  larger  and  older 
than  you  expect." 

A  moment  later  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  "  child  " 
was  as  tall  as  his  wife,  who,  with  abounding  motherly  kindness, 
had  received  the  girl  into  open  arms.  Scarcely  less  demonstra- 
tive and  affectionate  was  the  greeting  of  old  Mr.  Clifford,  and 
the  orphan  felt,  almost  from  the  first,  that  she  had  found  a 
second  father. 

"  Why,  Maggie,"  whispered  Leonard,  "  the  child  is  as  tall  as 
you  are  ! " 


AMY  WINFIELD.  13 

"  There's  only  the  more  to  welcome,  then,"  was  the  genial 
answer,  and,  turning  to  the  young  girl,  she  continued,  "  Come 
with  me,  my  dear ;  I'm  not  going  to  have  you  frightened  and 
bewildered  with  all  your  new  relations  before  you  can  take 
breath.  You  shall  unwrap  in  your  own  room,  and  feel  from  the 
start  that  you  have  a  nook  where  no  one  can  molest  you  or  make 
you  afraid,  to  which  you  can  always  retreat ;  "  and  she  led  the 
way  to  a  snug  apartment,  where  an  air-tight  stove  created  sum- 
mer warmth.  There  was  a  caressing  touch  in  Mrs.  Leonard's 
assistance  which  the  young  girl  felt  in  her  very  soul,  for  tears 
came  into  her  eyes  as  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  she  sat  down 
on  a  low  chair. 

"  I  feared  I  should  be  a  stranger  among  strangers,"  she  mur- 
mured ;  "  but  I  already  feel  as  if  I  were  at  home." 

"  You  are,  Amy,"  was  the  prompt  reply,  spoken  with  that 
quiet  emphasis  which  banishes  all  trace  of  doubt.  "  You  are 
at  home  as  truly  as  I  am.  There  is  nothing  half-way  in  this 
house.  Do  you  know  we  all  thought  that  you  were  a  child? 
I  now  foresee  that  we  shall  be  companions,  and  very  compan- 
ionable, too,  I  am  sure." 

There  was  a  world  of  grateful  good-will  in  the  dark  hazel  eyes 
which  Amy  lifted  to  the  motherly  face  bending  over  her. 

"  And  now  come,"  pursued  Mrs.  Leonard  ;  "  mother  Clifford, 
the  boys,  and  the  children  are  all  eager  to  see  you.  You  'won't 
find  much  ice  to  break,  and  before  the  evening  is  over  you  will 
feel  that  you  belong  to  us  and  we  to  you.  Don't  be  afraid." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  any  more.  I  was,  though,  on  my  way  here. 
Everything  looked  so  cold  and  dismal  from  the  car  windows, 
and  the  gentleman  in  whose  care  I  was  had  little  to  say,  though 
kind  and  attentive  enough.  I  was  left  to  my  own  thoughts,  and 
gave  way  to  a  foolish  depression ;  but  when  your  husband 
picked  me  up  in  his  strong  arms,  and  reassured  me  as  if  I  were 
a  little  girl,  my  feeling  of  desolation  began  to  pass  away.  Your 
greeting  and  dear  old  Mr.  Clifford's  have  banished  it  altogether. 
I  felt  as  if  my  own  father  were  blessing  me  in  the  friend  who  is 


14  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

now  my  guardian,  and  of  whom  I  have  heard  so  often ;  and, 
after  my  long  winter  journey  among  strangers,  you've  no  idea 
what  a  refuge  this  warm  room  has  already  become.  Oh,  I  know 
I  shall  be  happy.  I  only  wish  that  dear  papa  knew  how  well 
he  has  provided  for  me." 

"  He  knows,  my  dear.  But  come,  or  that  incorrigible  Burt 
will  be  bursting  upon  us  in  his  impatience,  and  the  little  mother 
must  not  be  kept  waiting,  either.  You  will  soon  learn  to  love, 
her  dearly.  Weak  and  gentle  as  she  is,  she  rules  us  all." 

"  Mother's  room  "  was,  in  truth,  the  favorite  haunt  of  the 
house,  and  only  her  need  of  quiet  kept  it  from  being  full  much 
of  the  time.  There  was  nothing  bleak  or  repelling  in  the  age 
it  sheltered,  and  children  and  grandchildren  gathered  about 
the  old  people  almost  as  instinctively  as  around  their  genial 
open  fire.  This  momentous  Christmas-eve  found  them  all 
there,  a  committee  of  reception  awaiting  the  new  inmate  of 
their  home.  There  was  an  eager  desire  to  know  what  Amy  was 
like,  but  it  was  a  curiosity  wholly  devoid  of  the  spirit  of  criti- 
cism. The  circumstances  under  which  the  orphan  came  to 
them  would  banish  any  such  tendency  in  people  less  kindly 
than  the  Cliffords ;  but  their  home-life  meant  so  much  to  them 
all  that  they  were  naturally  solicitous  concerning  one  who 
must,  from  the  intimate  relations  she  would  sustain,  take  from 
or  add  much  to  it.  Therefore  it  was  with  a  flutter  of  no  ordi- 
nary expectancy  that  theywaited  for  her  appearance.  The  only 
one  indifferent  was  Leonard's  youngest  boy,  who,  astride  his 
grandpa's  cane,  was  trotting  quietly  about,  unrestricted  in  his 
gambols.  Alfred  had  thawed  out  since  his  return  from  the 
station,  and  was  eager  to  take  the  measure  of  a  possible  play- 
mate ;  but,  with  the  shyness  of  a  boy  who  is  to  meet  a  "  strange 
girl,"  he  sought  a  partial'  cover  behind  his  grandfather's  chair. 
Little  "Johnnie"  was  flitting  about  impatiently,  with  her  least 
mutilated  doll  upon  her  arm ;  while  her  uncle  Burtis,  seated  on' 
a  low  stool  by  his  mother's  sofa,  pretended  to  be  exceedingly 
jealous,  and  was  deprecating  the  fact  that  he  would  now  be  no 


AMY   WIN  FIELD.  15 

longer  petted  as  her  baby,  since  the  child  of  her  adoption  must 
assuredly  take  his  place.  Webb,  who,  as  usual,  was  somewhat 
apart  from  the  family  group,  kept  up  a  poor  pretence  of  read- 
ing ;  and  genial  Leonard  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  beaming  upon  all,  and  waiting  to 
shine  on  the  new-comer.  Only  Mr.  Clifford  seemed  uninflu- 
enced by  the  warm,  bright  present.  He  gazed  fixedly  into  the 
flickering  blaze,  and  occasionally  took  off  his  spectacles  to  wipe 
away  the  moisture  that  gathered  in  his  eyes.  His  thoughts, 
evidently,  were  busy  with  years  long  past,  and  were  following 
that  old,  tried  friend  who  had  committed  to  his  hands  so  sacred 
a  trust. 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Leonard  led  Amy  forward.  The 
latter  hesitated  a  moment,  bewildered  by  the  number  of  eyes 
turned  towards  her,  and  the  new  relations  into  which  she  was 
entering.  She  proved  that  she  was  not  a  child  by  her  quick, 
blushing  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  two  young  men,  who 
were  as  yet  utter  strangers ;  and  they,  in  turn,  involuntarily  gave 
to  the  slender,  brown-haired  girl  quite  a  different  welcome  from 
the  one  they  had  expected  to  bestow  upon  a  child.  Old  Mr. 
Clifford  did  not  permit  her  embarrassment  to  last  a  moment, 
but,  stepping  hastily  forward,  and  encircling  her  with  his  arm, 
he  led  her  to  his  wife,  who  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the. 
motherless  girl  by  the  gentle  warmth  of  her  greeting.  She 
monopolized  her  ward  so  long  that  impatient  Burtis  began  to 
expostulate,  and  ask  when  his  turn  was  coming.  The  young 
girl  turned  a  shy,  blushing  face  towards  him,  and  her  cheeks, 
mantling  under  the  full  rays  of  the  lamp,  rendered  the  ex- 
quisite purity  of  her  complexion  all  the  more  apparent.  He 
also  began  to  feel  that  he  was  flushing  absurdly,  but  he  carried 
it  off  with  his  usual  audacity. 

"  I  am  much  embarrassed  and  perplexed,"  he  said.  "  I  was 
led  to  expect  a  little  sister  that  I  could  romp  with,  and  pick  up 
and  kiss ;  but  here  is  a  young  lady  that  almost  paralyzes  me 
with  awe." 


1 6  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  you  paralyzed  from  any  such  cause  just 
once,"  Leonard  remarked,  laughingly.  "  Go  kiss  your  sister, 
like  a  little  man." 

The  young  fellow  seemed  to  relish  the  ceremony  exceedingly, 
and  responsive  mirthfulness  gleamed  for  a  moment  in  Amy's 
eyes.  Then  he  dragged  Webb  forward,  saying,  "  Let  me  intro- 
duce to  you  the  grave  and  learned  member  of  the  family,  to 
whom  we  all  speak  with  bated  breath.  You  must  not  expect 
him  to  get  acquainted  with  you  in  any  ordinary  way.  He  will 
investigate  you,  and  never  rest  until  he  has  discovered  all  the 
hidden  laws  of^our  being.  Now,  Webb,  I  will  support  you 
while  Amy  kisses  you,  and  then  you  may  sit  down  and  analyze 
your  sensations,  and  perhaps  cipher  out  a  method  by  which  a 
kiss  can  be  rendered  tenfold  more  effective." 

Unmoved  by  his  brother's  raillery,  Webb  took  the  young 
girl's  hand,  and  looked  at  her  so  earnestly  with  his  dark,  grave 
eyes,  that  hers  drooped.  "Sister  Amy,"  he  said,  gently,  "I 
was  prepared  to  welcome  you  on  general  principles,  but  I  now 
welcome  you  for  your  own  sake.  Rattlebrain  Burt  will  make  a 
good  playmate,  but  you  will  come  to  me  when  you  are  in 
trouble ; "  and  he  kissed  her  brow. 

The  girl  looked  up  with  a  swift,  grateful  glance ;  it  seemed 
odd  to  her,  even  at  that  moment  of  strong  and  confused  im- 
pressions, and  with  the  salutes  of  her  guardians  still  warm  upon 
her  cheek,  that  she  felt  a  sense  of  rest  and  security  never  known 
before.  "  He  will  be  my  brother  in  very  truth,"  was  the  inter- 
pretation which  her  heart  gave  to  his  quiet  words.  They  all 
smiled,  for  the  course  of  the  reticent  and  undemonstrative 
young  man  was  rather  unexpected.  Burtis  indulged  in  a  ring- 
ing laugh,  as  he  said  : 

"  Father,  mother,  you  must  both  feel  wonderfully  relieved. 
Webb  is  to  look  after  Amy  in  her  hours  of  woe,  which,  of 
course,  will  be  frequent  in  this  vale  of  tears.  He  will  con- 
sole you,  Amy,  by  explaining  how  tears  are  formed,  and  how, 
by  a  proper  regard  for  the  sequence  of  Cause  and  effect, 


AMY  WINFIELn.  17 

there  might  be  more  or  less  of  them,  according  to  your 
desire." 

"  I  think  I  understand  Webb,"  was  her  smiling  answer. 

"  Don't  imagine  it.  He  is  a  perfect  sphinx.  Never  before 
has  he  opened  his  mouth  so  widely,  and  only  an  occasion  like 
this  could  have  moved  him.  You  must  have  unconsciously  re- 
vealed a  hidden  law,  or  else  he  would  have  been  as  mum  as  an 
oyster." 

Leonard,  meanwhile,  had  seated  himself,  and  was  holding 
little  Ned  on  his  knee,  his  arm  at  the  same  time  encircling  shy, 
sensitive  Johnnie,  who  was  fairly  trembling  with  excited  expect- 
ancy. Ned,  with  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  regarded  his  new 
relative  in  a  nonchalant  manner ;  but  to  the  little  girl  the  home- 
world  was  the  world,  and  the  arrival  in  its  midst  of  the  beautiful 
lady  never  seen  before  was  as  wonderful  as  any  fairy  tale.  In- 
deed, that  such  a  June-like  creature  should  come  to  them  that 
wintry  day  —  that  she  had  crossed  the  terrible  ocean  from  a 
foreign  realm  far  more  remote,  in  the  child's  consciousness,  than 
fairy-land  — seemed  quite  as  strange  as  if  Cinderella  had  stepped 
out  of  the  story-book  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  remaining 
with  them  until  her  lost  slipper  was  found.  Leonard,  big  and 
strong  as -he  was,  felt  and  interpreted  the  delicate  and  thrilling 
organism  of  his  child,  and,  as  Amy  turned  towards  him,  he 
said,  with  a  smile  : 

"  No  matter  about  me.  We're  old  friends ;  for  I've  known 
you  ever  since  you  were  a,little  girl  at  the  station.  What  if  you 
did  grow  to  be  a  young  woman  while  riding  home  !  Stranger 
things  than  that  happen  every  day  in  story-books,  don't  they, 
Johnnie  ?  Johnnie,  you  must  know,  has  the  advantage  of  the 
rest  of  us.  She  likes  bread-and-butter,  and  kindred  realities  of 
our  matter-of-fact  sphere,  but  she  also  has  a  world  of  her  own, 
which  is  quite  as  real.  I  think  she  is  inclined  to  believe  that 
you  are  a  fairy  princess,  and  that  you  may  have  a  wand  in  your 
pocket  by  which  you  can  restore  to  her  doll  the  missing  nose 
and  arm." 


1 8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  S1VR)~. 

Amy  scarcely  needed  Leonard's  words  in  order  to  understand 
the  child,  for  the  period  was  not  remote  when,  in  her  own  mind, 
the  sharp  outlines  of  fact  had  shaded  off  into  the  manifold 
mysteries  of  wonderland.  Therefore,  with  an  appreciation  and 
a  gentleness  which  won  anew  all  hearts,  she  took  the  little  girl 
on  her  lap,  and  said,  smilingly  : 

"  I  have  a  wee  wand  with  which,  I'm  sure,  I  can  do  much 
for  you,  and  perhaps  something  for  dolly.  I  can't  claim  to  be 
a  fairy  princess,  but  I  shall  try  to  be  as  good  to  you  as  if  I 
were  one." 

Webb,  with  his  book  upside  down,  looked  at  the  young  girl 
in  a  way  which  proved  that  he  shared  in  Johnnie's  wonder  and 
vague  anticipation.  Alfred,  behind  his  grandfather's  chair,  was 
the  only  one  who  felt  aggrieved  and  disappointed.  Thus  far 
he  had  been  overlooked,  but  he  did  not  much  care,  for  this 
great  girl  could  be  no  companion  for  him.  Amy,  however,  had 
woman's  best  grace  —  tact  —  and  guessed  his  trouble.  "Alf," 
she  said,  calling  him  by  his  household  name,  and  turning  upon 
him  her  large  hazel  eyes,  which  contained  spells  as  yet  unknown 
even  to  herself — "Alf,  don't  be  disappointed.  You  shall  find 
that  I  am  not  too  big  to  play  with  you." 

The  boy  yielded  at  once  to  a  grace  which  he  would  be  years 
in  learning  to  understand,  and  which  yet  affected  him  subtilely, 
and  with  something  of  the  same  influence  that  it  had  upon 
Webb,  who  felt  that  a  new  element  was  entering  into  his  life. 
Mercurial  Burtis,  however,  found  nothing  peculiar  in  his  own 
pleasant  sensations.  He  had  a  score  of  young  lady  friends, 
and  was  merely  delighted  to  find  in  Amy  a  very  attractive 
young  woman,  instead  of  a  child  or  a  dull,  plain-featured  girl, 
towards  whom  brotherly  attentions  might  often  become  a  bore. 
He  lived  intensely  in  the  present  b&pr,  and  was  more  than 
content  that  his  adopted  sister  was  c(ime  to  his  taste. 

"  Well,  Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  benignantly,  "  you  seem  to 
have  stepped  in  among  us  as  if  there  had  always  been  a  niche 
waiting  for  you,  and  I  think  that,'  after  you  have  broken  bread 


AMY  WIN  FIELD.  19 

with  us,  and  have  had  a  quiet  sleep  under  the  old  roof,  you  will 
feel  at  home.  Come,  I'm  going  to  take  you  out  to  supper 
to-night,  and,  Burt,  do  you  be  as  gallant  to  your  mother." 

The  young  fellow  made  them  all  laugh  by  imitating  his  fath- 
er's old-style  courtesy ;  and  a  happy  circle  of  faces  gathered 
around  the  board  in  the  cheerful  supper-room,  to  which  a  pro- 
fuse decoration  of  evergreens  gave  a  delightfully  aromatic  odor. 
Mr.  Clifford's  "  grace  "  was  not  a  formal  mumble,  but  a  grateful 
acknowledgment  of  the  source  from  which,  as  he  truly  believed, 
had  flowed  all  the  good  that  had  blessed  their  life ;  and  then 
followed  the  genial,  unrestrained  table-talk  of  a  household  that, 
as  yet,  possessed  no  closeted  skeleton.  The  orphan  sat  among 
them,  and  her  mourning  weeds  spoke  of  a  great  and  recent 
sorrow,  which  might  have  been  desolation,  but  already  her 
kindling  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks  proved  that  this  strong,  bright 
current  of  family  life  would  have  the  power  to  carry  her  for- 
ward to  a  new,  spring-like  experience.  To  her  foreign-bred 
eyes  there  was  an  abundance  of  novelty  in  this  American  home, 
but  it  was  like  the  strangeness  of  heaven  to  the  poor  girl,  who 
for  months  had  been  so  sad  and  almost  despairing.  With  the 
strong  reaction  natural  to  youth  after  long  depression,  her 
heart  responded  to  the  glad  life  about  her,  and  again  she  re- 
peated the  words  to  herself,  "  I'm  sure  —  oh,  I  am  sure  I  shall 
be  happy  here." 


2O  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  COUNTRY   FIRESIDE. 

AFTER  supper  they  all  gathered  for  a  time  in  the  large 
general  sitting-room,  and  careful  Leonard  went  the  rounds 
of  the  barn  and  out-buildings.  Mr.  Clifford,  with  considerate 
kindness,  had  resolved  to  defer  all  conversation  with  Amy  re- 
lating to  her  bereavement  and  the  scenes  that  had  ensued.  At 
this  holiday-time  they  would  make  every  effort  within  their 
power  to  pierce  with  light  and  warmth  the  cold  gray  clouds 
that  of  late  had  gathered  so  heavily  over  the  poor  child's  life. 
At  the  same  time  their  festivities  would  be  subdued  by  the 
memory  of  her  recent  sorrow,  and  restricted  to  their  immediate 
family  circle.  But,  instead  of  obtrusive  kindness,  they  envel- 
oped her  in  the  home  atmosphere,  and  made  her  one  of  them. 
The  manner  in  which  old  Mrs.  Clifford  kept  her  near  and 
retained  her  hand  was  a  benediction  in  itself. 

Leonard  was  soon  heard  stamping  the  snow  from  his  boots 
on  the  back  piazza,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  entered,  shivering. 

"The  coldest  night  of  the  year,"  he  exclaimed.  "Ten 
below  zero,  and  it  will  probably  be  twelve  before  morning.  It's 
too  bad,  Amy,  that  you  have  had  such  a  cold  reception." 

"  The  thermometer  makes  a  good  foil  for  your  smile,"  she 
replied.  "  Indeed,  I  think  the  mercury  rose  a  little  while  you 
were  looking  at  it." 

"  Oh  no,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  even  you  could  not  make  it 
rise  to-night.  Heigho,  Ned  !  coming  to  kiss  good-night?  I 
say,  Ned,  tell  us  what  mamma  has  for  Amy's  stocking.  What 


A    COUNTRY  FIRESIDE.  21 

a  good  joke  it  is,  to  be  sure  !  We  all  had  the  impression  you 
were  a  little  girl,  you  know,  and  selected  our  gifts  accordingly. 
Burt  actually  bought  you  a  doll.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Maggie  had 
planned  to  have  you  hang  up  your  stocking  with  the  children, 
and  such  a  lot  of  little  traps  and  sweets  she  has  for  you  ! " 

The  boy,  to  whom  going  to  bed  at  the  usual  hour  was  a 
heavy  cross  on  this  momentous  evening,  promptly  availed  him- 
self of  a  chance  for  delay  by  climbing  on  Amy's  lap,  and  going 
into  a  voluble  inventory  of  the  contents  of  a  drawer  into  which 
he  had  obtained  several  surreptitious  peeps.  His  effort  to  tell 
an  interminable  story  that  he  might  sit  up  longer,  the  droll 
havoc  he  made  with  his  English,  and  the  naming  of  the  toys 
that  were  destined  for  the  supposed  child,  evoked  an  unforced 
merriment  which  banished  the  last  vestige  of  restraint. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  it  has  all  happened  so,"  said  Amy,  after  the 
little  fellow  had  reluctantly  come  to  the  end  of  his  facts  and 
his  invention  also.  "  You  make  me  feel  as  if  I  had  known  you 
for  years  —  almost,  indeed,  as  if  I  had  come  to  you  as  a  little 
girl,  and  had  grown  up  among  you.  Come,  Ned,  it  shall  all 
turn  out  just  as  you  expected.  I'll  go  with  you  up-stairs,  and 
hang  my  stocking  beside  yours,  and  mamma  shall  put  into  it  all 
the  lovely  things  you  have  told  me  about.  Santa  Claus  does 
not  know  much  about  my  coming  here,  nor  what  kind  of  a  girl 
I  am,  so  your  kind  mamma  meant  to  act  the  part  of  Santa 
Claus  in  my  behalf  this  year,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  me.  But  he  knows  all  about  you,  and  there's  no 
telling  how  soon  he  may  come  to  fill  your  stocking.  You  know 
he  has  to  fill  the  stockings  of  all  the  little  boys  and  girls  in  the 
country,  and  that  will  take  a  long  time.  So  I  think  we  had 
better  go  at  once,  for  I  don't  believe  he  would  like  it  if  he 
came  and  found  you  up  and  awake." 

This  put  a  new  aspect  upon  going  to  bed  early,  and  having, 
seen  his  short,  chubby  stocking  dangling  with  a  long,  slender 
one  of  Amy's  by  the  chimney-side,  Ned  closed  his  eyes  with 
ineffable  content  and  faith.  Amy  then  returned  to  the  sitting- 


22  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

room,  whither  she  was  soon  followed  by  Maggie,  and  after 
some  further  light  and  laughing  talk  the  conversation  naturally 
drifted  towards  those  subjects  in  which  the  family  was  practically 
interested. 

"  What  do  you  think,  father?  "  Leonard  asked.  "  Won't  this 
finish  the  peach  and  cherry  buds?  I've  always  heard  that  ten 
degrees  of  cold  below  zero  destroyed  the  fruit  germs." 

"  Not  always,"  replied  the  man  of  long  experience.  "  It 
depends  much  upon  their  condition  when  winter  sets  in,  and 
whether,  previous  to  the  cold  snap,  there  have  been  prolonged 
thaws.  The  new  growth  on  the  trees  ripened  thoroughly  last 
fall,  and  the  frost  since  has  been  gradual  and  steady.  I've 
known  peach-buds  to  survive  fifteen  below  zero ;  but  there's 
always  danger  in  weather  like  this.  We  shall  know  what  the 
prospects  are  after  the  buds  thaw  out." 

"  How  will  that  be  possible?  "  Amy  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Now,  Webb,  is  your  chance  to  shine,"  cried  Burtis. 
"  Hitherto,  Amy,  the  oracle  has  usually  been  dumb,  but  you  may 
become  a  priestess  who  will  evoke  untold  stores  of  wisdom." 

Webb  flushed  slightly,  but  again  proved  that  his  brother's 
banter  had  little  influence. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  wait  a  few  days,"  he  said,  with  a  smile, 
"  I  can  make  clear  to  you,  by  the  aid  of  a  microscope,  what 
father  means,  much  better  than  I  can  explain.  I  can  then  show 
you  the  fruit  germs  either  perfect  or  blackened  by  the  frost." 

"  I'll  wait,  and  remind  you  of  your  promise,  too.  I  don't 
know  nearly  as  much  about  the  country  as  a  butterfly  or  a  bird, 
but  should  be  quite  as  unhappy  as  they  were  I  condemned  to 
city  life.  So  you  must  not  laugh  at  me  if  I  ask  no  end  of  ques- 
tions, and  try  to  put  my  finger  into  some  of  your  horticultural 
pies." 

His  pleased  look  contained  all  the  assurance  she  needed,  and 
he  resumed,  speaking  generally :  "  The  true  places  for  raising 
peaches  —  indeed,  all  the  stone-fruits  —  successfully  in  this  re- 
gion are  the  plateaus  and  slopes  of  the  mountains  beyond  us. 


A    COUNTRY  FIRESIDE.  23 

At  their  height  the  mercury  never  falls  as  low  as  it  does  with 'us, 
and  when  we  have  not  a  peach  or  cherry  I  have  found  such 
trees  as  existed  high  up  among  the  hills  well  laden." 

"  Look  here,  uncle  Webb,"  cried  Alf,  "  you've  forgotten  your 
geography.  The  higher  you  go  up  the  colder  it  gets." 

The  young  man  patiently  explained  to  the  boy  that  the  height 
of  the  Highlands  is  not  sufficient  to  cause  any  material  change 
in  climate,  while  on  still  nights  the  coldest  air  sinks  to  the  low- 
est levels,  and  therefore  the  trees  in  the  valleys  and  at  the  base 
of  the  mountains  suffer  the  most.  "  But  what  you  say,"  he  con- 
cluded, "  is  true  as  a  rule.  The  mercury  does  range  lower 
on  the  hills ;  and  if  they  were  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  feet 
higher  peaches  could  not  be  grown  at  all." 

Amy  mentally  soliloquized  :  "  I  am  learning  not  only  about 
the  mercury,  but  also  —  what  Alf  has  no  doubt  already  found 
out  —  that  Webb  is  the  one  to  go  to  if  one  wishes  anything  ex- 
plained. What's  more,  he  wouldn't,  in  giving  the  information, 
overwhelm  one  with  a  sense  of  deplorable  ignorance." 

In  accordance  with  his  practical  bent,  Webb  continued  :  "  I 
believe  that  a  great  deal  of  money  could  be  made  in  the  High- 
lands by  raising  peaches.  The  crop  would  be  almost  certain, 
and  the  large  late  varieties  are  those  which  bring  the  extraordi- 
nary prices.  What  is  more,  the  mountain  land  would  probably 
have  the  quality  of  virgin  soil.  You  remember,  father,  don't 
you,  when  peaches  in  this  region  were  scarcely  troubled  by 
disease  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do.  There  was  a  time  when  they  would  live  on 
almost  like  apple-trees,  and  give  us  an  abundance  of  great  lus- 
cious fruit  year  after  year.  Even  with  the  help  of  the  pigs  we 
could  not  dispose  of  the  crops,  the  bulk  of  which,  in  many  in- 
stances, I  am  sorry  to  say,  went  into  brandy.  What  was  that 
you  were  reading  the  other  day  about  peaches  in  Hawthorne's 
description  of  the  old  Manse?" 

Webb  took  the  book  and  read :  "  Peach-trees  which,  in  a 
good  year,  tormented  me  with  peaches  neither  to  be  eaten 


24  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

nor'  kept,  nor,  without  labor  and  perplexity,  to  be  given 
away." 

"  That  hits  it  exactly,"  resumed  the  old  gentleman,  laughing, 
"  only  every  year  was  a  good  year  then,  and  we  had  not  the 
New  York  market  within  three  hours  of  us.  Even  if  we  had,  a 
large  modern  orchard  would  have  supplied  it.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  changes  I've  witnessed  in  my  time  is  the 
enormous  consumption  of  fruit  in  large  cities.  Why,  more  is 
disposed  of  in  Newburgh  than  used  to  go  to  New  York.  But 
to  return  to  peaches  ;  our  only  chance  for  a  long  time  has  been 
to  plant  young  trees  every  year  or  two,  and  we  scarcely  secured 
a  crop  more  than  once  in  three  years.  Even  then  the  yellows 
often  destroyed  the  trees  before  they  were  old  enough  to  bear 
much.  They  are  doing  far  better  of  late  along  the  Hudson,  and 
there  is  good  prospect  that  this  region  will  become  the  greatest 
peach-growing  locality  in  the  country." 

"  I'm  sure  you  are  right,"  assented  Webb,  "  and  I  think  it 
will  pay  us  to  plant  largely  in  the  spring.  I  don't  suppose  you 
ever  saw  a  peach-orchard  in  England,  Amy?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  did.  They  were  all  grown  in  front  of 
sunny  walls,  espalier,  as  papa  termed  it.  We  had  some  in  our 
garden." 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Webb,  "  the  climate  there  is  too  cool  and 
humid  for  even  the  wood  to  ripen.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  we 
often  have  too  vivid  sunshine.  I  propose  that  we  put  out  all 
the  north  slope  in  peaches." 

"  Do  you  think  a  northern  exposure  best  ?  "  Leonard  asked. 

"  I  certainly  do.  In  my  opinion  it  is  not  the  frost,  unless  it 
be  very  severe,  that  plays  the  mischief  with  the  buds,  but  alter- 
nate freezing  and  thawing,  especially  after  the  buds  have  started 
in  spring.  On  a  northern  slope  the  buds  usually  remain  dormant 
until  the  danger  of  late  frosts  is  over.  I  am  quite  sure,  too,  that 
the  yellows  is  a  disease  due  chiefly  to  careless  or  dishonest 
propagation.  Pits  and  buds  have  been  taken  from  infected 
trees,  and  thus  the  evil  has  been  spread  far  and  wide.  There 


A    COUNTRY  FIRESIDE.  2$ 

is  as  much  to  be  gained  in  the  careful  and  long-continued  selec- 
tion of  fruits  and  vegetables  as  in  the  judicious  breeding  of 
stock." 

"  Has  no  remedy  for  the  yellows  been  discovered?  "  Leonard 
again  queried. 

"  Only  the  axe  and  fire.  The  evil  should  be  extirpated  as  fast 
as  it  appears.  Prevention  is  far  better  than  any  attempt  at  cure. 
The  thing  to  do  is  to  obtain  healthier  trees,  and  then  set  them 
out  on  new  land.  That's  why  I  think  the  north  slope  will  be  a 
good  place,  for  peaches  have  never  been  grown  there  in  my 
memory." 

"  Come,  Amy,"  said  Burt.  "  Len  and  Webb  are  now  fairly 
astride  of  their  horticultural  hobbies.  Come  with  me,  and  see 
the  moon  shining  on  old  Storm  King." 


They  pushed  aside  the  heavy  crimson  curtains,  which  added 
a  sense  of  warmth  to  the  cheerful  room,  and  looked  at  the  cold 
white  world  without  —  a  ghost  of  a  world,  it  seemed  to  Amy. 
The  moon,  nearly  full,  had  risen  in  the  gap  of  the  Highlands, 
and  had  now  climbed  well  above  the  mountains,  softening  and 
etherealizing  them  until  every  harsh,  rugged  outline  was  lost. 
The  river  at  their  feet  looked  pallid  and  ghostly  also.  When 
not  enchained  by  frost,  lights  twinkled  here  and  there  all  over 
its  broad  surface,  and  the  intervals  were  brief  when  the  throbbing 
engines  of  some  pa'ssing  steamer  were  not  heard.  Now  it  was 
like  the  face  of  the  dead  when  a  busy  life  is  over. 


26  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  It's  all  very  beautiful,"  said  Amy,  shivering,  "  but  too  cold 
and  still.  I  love  life,  and  this  reminds  one  of  death,  the 
thoughts  of  which,  with  all  that  it  involves,  have  oppressed  me 
so  long  that  I  must  throw  off  the  burden.  I  was  growing  mor- 
bid, and  giving  way  to  a  deeper  and  deeper  depression,  and  now 
your  sunny  home  life  seems  just  the  antidote  for  it  all." 

The  warm-hearted  fellow  was  touched,  for  there  were  tears 
in  the  young  girl's  eyes.  "  You  have  come  to  the  right  place, 
Amy,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "  You  cannot  love  life  more  than  I, 
and  I  promise  to  make  it  lively  for  you.  I'm  just  the  physician 
to  minister  to  the  mind  diseased  with  melancholy.  Trust  me. 
I  can  do  a  hundred-fold  more  for  you  than  delving,  matter-of- 
fact  Webb.  So  come  to  me  when  you  have  the  blues.  Let  us 
make  an  alliance  offensive  and  defensive  against  all  the  powers 
of  dulness  and  gloom." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  she  replied,  smiling ;  "  but  there  will  be 
hours,  and  perhaps  days,  when  the  past  with  its  shadows  will 
come  back  too  vividly  for  me  to  escape  it." 

"  I'll  banish  all  shadows,  never  fear.  I'll  make  the  present 
so  real  and  jolly  that  you  will  forget  the  past." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  forget,  but  only  to  think  of  it  without  the 
dreary  foreboding  and  sinking  of  heart  that  oppressed  me  till  I 
came  here.  I  know  you  will  do  much  for  me,  but  I  am  sure 
I  shall  like  Webb  also." 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  will.  He's  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the 
world.  Don't  think  that  I  misunderstand  him  or  fail  to  appre- 
ciate his  worth  because  I  love  to  run  him  so.  Perhaps  you'll 
wake  him  up  and  get  him  out  of  his  ruts.  But  I  foresee  that 
I'm  the  medicine  you  most  need.  Come  to  the  fire ;  you  are 
shivering." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  that  I've  found  such  a  home,"  she  said, 
with  a  grateful  glance,  as  she  emerged  from  the  curtains. 


CUNNING  BY  MOONLIGHT.  27 


CHAPTER   IV. 

GUNNING   BY   MOONLIGHT. 

WEBB  saw  the  glance  from  eyes  on  which  were  still  traces 
of  tears ;  he  also  saw  his  brother's  look  of  sympathy ; 
and  with  the  kindly  purpose  of  creating  a  diversion  to  her 
thoughts  he  started  up,  breaking  off  his  discussion  with  Leonard, 
and  left  the  room.  A  moment  later  he  returned  from  the  hall 
with  the  double-barrelled  gun. 

"What  now,  Webb?"  cried  Burt,  on  the  qui  vive.  "You 
will  make  Amy  think  we  are  attacked  by  Indians." 

"  If  you  are  not  afraid  of  the  cold,  get  your  gun,  and  I  think 
I  can  give  you  some  sport,  and,  for  a  wonder,  make  you  useful 
also,"  Webb  replied.  "While  you  were  careering  this  after- 
noon I  examined  the  young  trees  in  the  nursery,  and  found  that 
the  rabbits  were  doing  no  end  of  mischief.  It  has  been  so 
cold,  and  the  snow  is  so  deep,  that  the  little  rascals  are  gather- 
ing near  the  house.  They  have  gnawed  nearly  all  the  bark  off 
the  stems  of  some  of  the  trees,  and  I  doubt  whether  I  can 
save  them.  At  first  I  was  puzzled  by  their  performances.  You 
know,  father,  that  short  nursery  row  grafted  with  our  seedling 
apple,  the  Highland  Beauty  ?  Well,  I  found  many  of  the  lower 
twigs  taken  off  with  a  sharp,  slanting  cut,  as  if  they  had  been 
severed  with  a  knife,  and  I  imagined  that  a  thrifty  neighbor 
had  resolved  to  share  in  our  monopoly  of  the  new  variety,  but 
I  soon  discovered  that  the  cuttings  had  been  made  too  much 
at  random  to  confirm,  the  impression  that  some  one  had  been 
gathering  scions  for  grafting.  Tracks  on  the  snow,  and  girdled 


28  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

trees,  soon  made  it  evident  that  rabbits  were  the  depredators. 
One  of  the  little  pests  must  have  climbed  into  a  bushy  tree  at 
least  eighteen  inches  from  the  snow,  in  order  to  reach  the  twigs 
I  found  cut." 

"A  rabbit  up  a  tree!"  exclaimed  Leonard.  "Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing?" 

"  Well,  you  can  see  for  yourself  to-morrow,"  Webb  resumed. 
"  Of  course  we  can't  afford  to  pasture  the  little  fellows  on  our 
young  trees,  and  so  must  feed  them  until  they  can  be  shot  or 
trapped.  The  latter  method  will  be  good  fun  for  you,  Alf. 
This  afternoon  I  placed  sweet  apples,  cabbage-leaves,  and  tur- 
nips around  the  edge  of  a  little  thicket  near  the  trees ;  and, 
Burt,  you  know  there  is  a  clump  of  evergreens  near,  from  whose 
cover  I  think  we  can  obtain  some  good  shots.  So  get  your 
gun,  and  we'll  start  even." 

At  the  prospect  of  sport  Burt  forgot  Amy  and  everything  else, 
and  dashed  off. 

"  Oh,  papa,  can't  I  go  with  them  ?  "  pleaded  Alf. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Maggie  ?  "  Leonard  asked  his  wife, 
who  now  entered. 

"Well,  boys  will  be  boys.  If  you  will  let  mamma  bundle 
you  up  —  " 

"  Oh  yes,  anything,  if  I  can  only  go  ! "  cried  Alf,  trembling 
with  excitement. 

"  Sister  Amy,"  Webb  remarked,  a  little  diffidently,  "  if  you 
care  to  see  the  fun,  you  can  get  a  good  view  from  the  window 
of  your  room.  I'll  load  my  gun  in  the  hall." 

"Can  I  see  you  load?"  Amy  asked,  catching  some  of  AlPs 
strong  interest.  "  It's  all  so  novel  to  me." 

"  Certainly.  I  think  you  will  soon  find  that  you  can  do 
pretty  much  as  you  please  in  your  new  home.  You  are  now 
among  republicans,  you  know,  and  we  are  scarcely  conscious  of 
any  government." 

"  But  I  have  already  discovered  one  very  strong  law  in  this 
household,"  she  smilingly  asserted,  as  she  stood  beside  him 


GUNNING  BY  MOONLIGHT.  29 

near  the  hall-table,  on  which  he  had  placed  his  powder-flask 
and  shot-pouch. 

"Ah,  what  is  that?"  he  asked,  pouring  the  powder  carefully 
into  the  muzzles  of  the  gun. 

"  The  law  of  kindness,  of  good-will.  Why,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  I  expected  to  be  weeks  in  getting  acquainted,  but  here  you 
are  all  calling  me  sister  Amy  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world.  It  seems  so  odd,"  she  laughed,  "  that  I  am  not  a 
bit  afraid  of  you,  even  with  your  gun,  and  yet  we  have  just  met, 
as  it  were.  The  way  you  and  your  brothers  say  '  sister  Amy ' 
makes  the  relation  seem  real.  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  I  am 
the  same  girl  that  stepped  down  at  the  station  this  evening, 
nor  can  I  get  over  my  pleased  wonder  at  the  transformation." 

"  Amy,"  said  the  young  man,  earnestly,  "  your  coming  prom- 
ises so  much  to  us  all !  You  were  just  the  one  element  lacking 
in  our  home.  I  now  see.  that  it  was  so.  I  already  have  the 
presentiment  that  you  will  do  more  for  us  than  we  can  for  you." 

"  I  ought  to  do  all  that  the  deepest  gratitude  could  prompt. 
You  have  never  knowa  what  it  is  to  be  desolate  one  hour,  and 
to  find  an  ideal  home  the  next." 

"  I  wish  it  might  be  an  ideal  home  to  you ;  but  don't  expect 
too  much.  You  will  find  some  of  us  very  human." 

"Therefore  I  shall  feel  the  more  at  home.  Papa  always 
spoiled  me  by  letting  me  have  my  own  way,  and  I  shall  often 
tax  your  patience.  Do  you  know,  I  never  saw  a  gun  loaded 
before.  There  seems  to  be  so  much  going  on  here,  and  I  have 
lived  such  a  quiet  life  of  late.  How  will  you  make  the  thing 
go  off  ?  " 

"  These  little  percussion-caps  will  do  the  business.  It  seems 
to  me  that  I've  always  been  quiet,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  heavy. 
I  hope  you  will  think  it  your  mission  to  render  me  less  matter- 
of-fact.  I'm  ready  now,  and  here  comes  Burt  with  his  breech- 
loader. If  you  will  go  to  your  room  now,  you  can  see  our 
shots." 

A  moment  later  she  stood  with  Johnnie  at  her  window,  both 


30  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY, 

almost  holding  their  breath  in  expectation  as  they  saw  the 
young  men,  with  Alf  following,  steal  towards  a  clump  .of  ever- 
greens behind  the  house. 

"  Quiet  and  steady  now,"  Webb  cautioned  his  eager  brother ; 
"  and,  Alf,  you  step  in  my  tracks,  so  there  may  be  no  noise." 
Thus  they  made  their  way  among  the  pines,  and  peered  cau- 
tiously out.  "  Hold  on,  Burt,"  Webb  whispered,  as  the  former 
was  bringing  his  gun  to  his  shoulder ;  "  I  want  a  crack  at  them 
as  well  as  yourself.  Let's  reconnoitre.  Yes,  there  are  three  or 
four  of  the  scamps.  Let  Alf  see  them.  They  look  so  pretty 
in  the  moonlight  that  I've  scarcely  the  heart  to  disturb,  much 
less  to  kill  them." 

"  Oh,  stop  your  sentimental  nonsense  ! "  muttered  Burt,  im- 
patiently. "  It's  confoundedly  cold,  and  they  may  take  fright 
and  disappear." 

"  Black  ingratitude  !  "  Webb  exclaimed.  "  If  there  isn't  one 
in  the  apple  nursery  in  spite  of  all  my  provision  for  them  ! 
That  ends  my  compunctions.  I'll  take  him,  and  you  that  big 
fellow  munching  a  cabbage-leaf.  We'll  count  three  —  now, 
one,  two  — "  The  two  reports  rang  out  as  one,  and  the 
watchers  at  the  window  saw  the  flashes,  and  thrilled  at  the 
reverberating  echoes. 

"  It's  almost  as  exciting  as  if  they  were  shooting  Indians, 
robbers,  or  giants,"  cried  Johnnie,  clapping  her  hands  and 
jumping  up  and  down. 

"Back,"  said  Webb  to  Alf,  who  was  about  to  rush  forward 
to  secure  the  game  ;  "  we  may  get  another  shot." 

They  waited  a  few  moments  in  vain,  and  then  succumbed  to 
the  cold.  To  Alf  was  given  the  supreme  delight  of  picking  up 
the  game  that  lay  on  the  snow,  making  with  their  blood  the  one 
bit  of  color  in  all  the  white  garden. 

"  Poor  little  chaps  ! "  Webb  remarked,  as  he  joined  the 
family  gathered  around  Alf  and  the  rabbits  in  the  sitting-room. 
"  It's  a  pity  the  world  wasn't  wide  enough  for  us  all." 

"What  has  come  over  you,  Webb?"  asked  Burt,  lifting  his 


HUNTING   BY   .MOONLIGHT. 


32  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

eyebrows.  "  Has  there  been  a  hidden  spring  of  sentiment  in 
your  nature  all  these  years,  which  has  just  struck  the  surface?  " 
It  was  evident  that  nearly  all  shared  in  Webb's  mild  regret 
that  such  a  sudden  period  had  been  put  to  life  at  once  so 
pretty,  innocent,  and  harmful.  Alf,  however,  was  conscious  of 
only  pure  exultation.  Your  boy  is  usually  a  genuine  savage, 
governed  solely  by  the  primal  instinct  of  the  chase  and  destruc- 
tion of  wild  animals.  He  stroked  the  fur,  and  with  eyes  of 
absorbed  curiosity  examined  the  mischievous  teeth,  the  long 
ears,  the  queer  little  feet  that  never  get  cold,  and  the  places 
where  the  lead  had  entered  with  the  sharp  deadly  shock  that 
had  driven  out  into  the  chill  night  the  nameless  something 
which  had  been  the  little  creature's  life.  Amy,  too,  stroked 
the  fur  with  a  pity  on  her  face  which  made  it  very  sweet  to 
Webb,  while  tender-hearted  Johnnie  was  exceedingly  remorse- 
ful, and  wished  to  know  whether  "  the  bunnies,  if  put  by  the 
fire,  would  not  come  to  life  before  morning."  Indeed,  there 
was  a  general  chorus  of  commiseration,  which  Burt  brought  to 
a  prosaic  conclusion  by  saying :  "  Crocodile  tears,  every  one. 
You'll  all  enjoy  the  pot-pie  to-morrow  with  great  gusto.  By 
the  way,  I'll  prop  up  one  of  these  little  fellows  at  the  foot  of 
Ned's  crib,  and  in  the  morning  he'll  think  that  the  original 
'  Br'er  Rabbit '  has  hopped  out  of  Uncle  Remus's  stories  to 
make  him  a  Christmas  visit." 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  MORNING.  33 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHRISTMAS   EVE   AND   MORNING. 

OLD  Mrs.  Clifford  now  created  a  diversion  by  asking : 
"How  about  our  plants  to-night,  Maggie?  Ought  we 
not  to  take  some  precautions  ?  Once  before  when  it  was  as 
cold  as  this  we  lost  some,  you  know." 

"  Leonard,"  said  his  wife,  in  response  to  the  suggestion,  "  it 
will  be  safer  for  you  to  put  a  tub  of  water  in  the  flower-room  ; 
that  will  draw  the  frost  from  the  plants.  Mother  is  the  queen 
of  the  flowers  in  this  house,"  continued  Mrs.  Leonard,  turning 
to  Amy,  "  and  I  think  she  will  be  inclined  to  appoint  you  first 
lady  in  attendance.  She  finds  me  cumbered  with  too  many 
other  cares.  But  it  doesn't  matter.  Mother  has  only  to  look 
at  the  plants  to  make  them  grow  and  bloom." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,"  replied  the  old  lady,  laughing. 
"  Flowers  are  like  babies.  I  never  made  much  of  a  fuss  over 
my  babies,  but  I  loved  them,  and  saw  that  they  had  just  what 
they  needed  at  the  right  time." 

"  That  accounts  for  Webb's  exuberant  growth  and  spirit,  and 
the  ethereal  beauty  of  Len's  mature  blossoming,"  remarked 
Burt. 

"  You  are  a  plant  that  never  had  enough  pruning,"  retorted 
his  portly  eldest  brother. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you,  if  you  will  teach  me  how,"  Amy 
said  to  Mrs.  Clifford. 

"In  the  pruning  department?"  asked  Burt,  with  assumed 
dismay. 


34  NATURES  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Possibly,"  was  the  reply,  with  an  arch  little  look  which  de- 
lighted the  young  fellow. 

"  Come,  Maggie,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  "  sing  a  Christmas  carol 
before  we  separate.  It  will  be  a  pleasant  way  of  bringing  our 
happy  evening  to  a  close." 

Mrs.  Leonard  went  to  the  piano.  "  Amy,"  she  asked, 
"  can't  you  help  me  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  if  you  will  choose  something  I  know." 

A  selection  was  soon  made,  and  Amy  modestly  blended  a 
clear,  sweet  voice  with  the  air  that  Mrs.  Leonard  sang,  and  as 
the  sympathetic  tones  of  the  young  girl  swelled  the  rich  volume 
of  song  the  others  exchanged  looks  of  unaffected  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  Amy,  I  am  so  glad  you  can  sing  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Clifford, 
"  for  we  have  always  made  so  much  of  music  in  our  home." 

"  Papa,"  she  replied,  with  moist  eyes,  "  felt  as  you  do,  and 
he  had  me  sing  for  him  ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"  Amy  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leonard,  in  a  low  voice,  "  suppose 
you  take  the  soprano  and  I  the  alto  in  the  next  stanza." 

They  were  all  delighted  with  the  result,  and  another  selection 
was  made,  in  which  Burl's  tenor  and  Webb's  bass  came  in  with 
fine  effect. 

"  Amy,  what  a  godsend  you  are  to  us  all ! "  said  Leonard, 
enthusiastically.  "  I  am  one  of  the  great  army  of  poets  who 
can't  sing,  but  a  poet  nevertheless." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Len,"  added  Burt;  "  it  needs  but  a  glance  to 
see  that  you  are  of  that  ethereal  mould  of  which  poets  and 
singers  are  made.  But  isn't  it  capital !  We  now  have  all  the 
four  parts." 

"Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "do  you  know  an  old  Christmas 
hymn  that  your  father  and  I  loved  when  we  were  as  young  as 
you  are  ?  "  and  he  named  it. 

"  I  have  often  sung  it  for  him,  and  he  usually  spoke  of  you 
when  I  did  so ; "  and  she  sang  sweet,  undying  words  to  a 
sweet,  quaint  air  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  feeling. 

The  old  gentleman  wiped  his  eyes  again  and  again.     "Ah  !  " 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  MORNING.  35 

he  said,  "  how  that  takes  me  back  into  the  past !  My  friend 
and  I  knew  and  loved  that  air  and  hymn  over  sixty  years  ago. 
I  can  see  him  now  as  he  looked  then.  God  bless  his  child, 
and  now  my  child  ! "  he  added,  as  he  drew  Amy  caressingly 
towards  him.  "  A  brief  evening  has  made  you  one  of  us.  I 
thank  God  that  he  has  sent  one  whom  it  will  be  so  easy  for  us 
all  to  love ;  and  we  gratefully  accept  you  as  a  Christmas  gift 
from  Heaven." 

Then,  with  the  simplicity  of  an  ancient  patriarch,  he  gathered 
his  household  around  the  family  altar,  black  Abram  and  two 
maids  entering  at  his  summons,  and  taking  seats  with  an  air  of 
deference  near  the  door.  Not  long  afterwards  the  old  house 
stood  silent  and  dark  in  the  pallid  landscape. 

Though  greatly  wearied,  Amy  was  kept  awake  during  the 
earlier  part  of  the  night  by  the  novelty  of  her  new  life  and 
relations,  and  she  was  awakened  in  the  late  dawn  of  the  follow- 
ing day  by  exclamations  of  delight  from  Mrs.  Leonard's  room. 
She  soon  remembered  that  it  was  Christmas  morning.  The 
children  evidently  had  found  their  stockings,  for  she  heard 
Johnnie  say,  "  Oh,  mamma,  do  you  think  aunt  Amy  is  awake  ? 
I  would  so  like  to  take  her  stocking  to  her  ! " 

"Yes,"  cried  Amy,  "  I'm  awake  ;  "  and  the  little  girl,  draped 
in  white,  soon  pushed  open  the  door,  holding  her  own  and 
Amy's  stockings  in  hands  that  trembled  with  delightful  antici- 
pation. 

"Jump  into  bed  with  me,"  said  Amy,  "and  we  will  empty 
our  stockings  together." 

The  years  rolled  back,  the  previous  months  of  sorrow  and 
suffering  were  forgotten  ;  the  day,  the  hour,  with  its  associations, 
the  eager  child  that  nestled  close  to  her,  made  her  a  child 
again.  She  yielded  wholly  to  her  mood  ;  she  would  be  a  little 
girl  once  more,  Johnnie's  companion  in  feeling  and  delight ; 
and  the  morning  of  her  life  was  still  so  new  that  the  impulses 
of  that  enchanted  age  before  the  light  of  experience  has  defined 
the  world  into  its  matter-of-fact  proportions  came  back  unforced 


36  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

and  unaffected.  Her  voice  vied  with  Johnnie's  in  its  notes  of 
excitement  and  pleasure,  and  to  more  than  one  who  heard  her 
it  seemed  that  their  first  impression  was  correct,  that  a  little 
child  had  come  to  them,  and  that  the  tall,  graceful  maiden  was 
a  myth. 

"  Merry  Christmas,  Amy  ! "  cried  the  voice  of  Webb  on  the 
stairs. 

The  child  vanished  instantly,  and  a  blushing  girl  let  fall  the 
half-emptied  stocking.  Something  in  that  deep  voice  proved 
that  if  she  were  not  yet  a  woman,  she  had  drawn  so  near  that 
mystery  of  life  that  its  embarrassing  self-consciousness  was  be- 
ginning to  assert  itself.  "  How  silly  he  will  think  me  !  "  was 
her  mental  comment,  as  she  returned  his  greeting  in  a  voice 
that  was  rather  faint. 

The  "  rising  bell "  now  resounded  through  the  house,  and  she 
sprang  up  with  the  purpose  of  making  amends  by  a  manner 
of  marked  dignity.  And  yet  there  remained  with  her  a  sense  of 
home  security,  of  a  great  and  new-found  happiness,  which  the 
cold  gray  morning  could  not  banish.  The  air-tight  stove 
glowed  with  heat  and  comfort,  and  she  afterwards  learned  that 
Mrs.  Leonard  had  replenished  the  fire  so  noiselessly  as  not  to 
awaken  her.  The  hearty  Christmas  greetings  of  the  family  as 
she  came  into  the  breakfast-room  were  like  an  echo  of  the 
angels'  song  of  "  good-will."  The  abounding  kindliness  and 
genuine  pleasure  at  her  presence  made  the  feeling  that  she  had 
indeed  become  one  of  the  household  seem  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world,  instead  of  a  swiftly  wrought  miracle. 

Little  Ned  had  in  his  arms  one  of  the  rabbits  that  had  been 
shot  on  the  previous  evening,  and  to  him  it  was  more  wonder- 
ful than  all  his  toys.  "  You  should  have  seen  him  when  he 
awoke,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  saw  the  poor  little  thing  propped 
up  at  the  foot  of  his  crib.  His  eyes  grew  wider  and  rounder, 
and  at  last  he  breathed,  in  an  awed  whisper,  '  Br'er  Rabbit.' 
But  he  soon  overcame  his  surprise,  and  the  jargon  he  talked  to 
it  made  our  sides  ache  with  laughing." 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  MORNING.  37 

The  gifts  that  had  been  prepared  for  the  supposed  child  were 
taken  by  Amy  in  very  good  part,  but  with  the  tact  of  a  well- 
bred  girl  who  would  not  spoil  a  jest,  rather  than  with  the  undis- 
guised delight  of  Johnnie. 

"Only  Johnnie  and  I  have  seen  little  Amy,"  said  Leonard  — 
"  I  at  the  depot  before  she  grew  up ;  and  this  morning  she  be- 
came a  little  girl  again  as  a  Christmas  wonder  for  my  little  girl. 
Johnnie's  faith  and  fairy  lore  may  make  the  transformation  pos- 
sible to  her  again,  but  I  fear  the  rest  of  us  will  never  catch 
another  glimpse  of  the  child  we  expected ;  "  for  Amy's  grown- 
up air  since  she  had  appeared  in  the  breakfast-room  had  been 
almost  a  surprise  to  him  after  hearing  through  the  partition  her 
pretty  nonsense  over  her  stocking. 

" I  fear  you  are  right,"  said  Amy,  with  a  half-sigh ;  "and  yet 
it  was  lovely  to  feel  just  like  Johnnie  once  more ; "  and  she 
stole  a  shy  glance  at  Webb,  who  must  have  heard  some  of  her 
exclamations.  The  expression  of  his  face  seemed  to  reassure 
her,  and  without  further  misgiving  she  joined  in  a  laugh  at  one 
of  Burt's  sallies. 


38  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS. 

AMY'S  thoughts  naturally  reverted  before  very  long  to  Mrs. 
Clifford's  pets  —  the  flowers  —  and  she  asked  how  they 
had  endured  the  intense  cold  of  the  night. 

"They  have  had  a  narrow  escape,"  the  old  lady  replied. 
"  If  Maggie  had  not  suggested  the  tub  of  water  last  night,  I 
fear  we  should  have  lost  the  greater  part  of  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Leonard,  "  I  went  to  the  flower-room  with 
fear  and  trembling  this  morning,  and  when  I  found  the  water 
frozen  thick  I  was  in  despair." 

"  It  was  the  water  freezing  that  saved  the  plants,"  Webb  re- 
marked, quietly.  "  I  put  water  in  the  root-cellar  before  I  went 
to  bed  last  night,  with  like  good  effect." 

"  Well,  for  the  life  of  me,"  said  Maggie,  "  I  can't  understand 
why  the  plants  and  roots  don't  freeze  when  water  does." 

"  Come,  Burt,"  added  her  husband,  "  you  are  a  college-bred 
man.  You  explain  how  the  water  draws  the  frost  from  the  plants." 

"  Oh,  bother  ! "  Burt  answered,  flushing  slightly,  "  I've  for- 
gotten. Some  principle  of  latent  heat  involved,  I  believe. 
Ask  Webb.  If  he  could  live  long  enough  he'd  coax  from  Na- 
ture all  her  secrets.  He's  the  worst  Paul  Pry  into  her  affairs 
that  I  ever  knew.  So  beware,  Amy,  unless  you  are  more  secre- 
tive than  Nature,  which  I  cannot  believe,  since  you  seem  so 
natural." 

"  I'm  afraid  your  knowledge,  Burt,  resembles  latent  heat," 
laughed  Leonard.  "  Come,  see  what  you  can  do,  Webb." 


NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS.  39 

"  Burt  is  right,"  said  Webb,  good-naturedly ;  "  the  principle 
of  latent  heat  explains  it  all,  and  he  could  refresh  his  memory 
in  a  few  moments.  The  water  does  not  draw  the  frost  from 
the  plants,  but  before  it  can  freeze  it  must  give  out  one  hundred 
and  forty  degrees  of  latent  heat.  The  flower-room  and  root- 
cellar  were  therefore  so  much  warmer  during  the  night  than  if 
the  water  had  not  been  there.  The  plants  that  were  nipped 
probably  suffered  after  the  ice  became  so  thick  as  to  check  in 
a  great  measure  the  freezing  process." 

"  How  can  ice  stop  water  from  freezing?  "  Alf  asked,  in  much 
astonishment. 

"  By  keeping  it  warm,  on  the  same  principle  that  your  bed- 
clothes kept  you  warm  last  night.  Heat  passes  very  slowly 
through  ice  —  that  is,  it  is  a  poor  conductor.  With  the  snow 
it  is  the  winter  wrap  of  nature,  which  protects  all  life  beneath 
it.  When  our  ponds  and  rivers  are  once  frozen  over,  the  latent 
heat  in  the  water  beneath  can  escape  through  the  ice  but  very 
gradually,  and  every  particle  of  ice  that  forms  gives  out  into 
the  water  next  to  it  one  hundred  and  forty  degrees  of  heat. 
Were  it  not  for  these  facts  our  ponds  would  soon  become  solid. 
But  to  return  to  the  tub  of  water  in  the  flower-room.  The 
water,  when  placed  there,  was  probably  warmer  than  the  air, 
and  so  would  give  out  or  radiate  its  heat  until  a  thermometer, 
placed  either  in  the  room  or  in  the  water,  would  mark  thirty- 
two  degrees  above  zero.  At  this  point  the  water  would  begin 
to  freeze,  but  plants  or  vegetables  would  not.  They  would  re- 
quire slightly  severer  cold  to  affect  them.  But  as  soon  as  the 
water  begins  to  freeze  it  also  gradually  gives  out  its  latent  heat, 
and  before  a  particle  of  ice  can  form  it  must  give  out  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  degrees  of  heat  to  the  air  and  water  around  it. 
Therefore  the  freezing  process  goes  on  slowly,  and  both  the  air 
and  water  are  kept  comparatively  warm.  After  a  time,  how- 
ever, the  ice  becomes  so  thick  over  the  surface  that  the  freezing 
goes  on  more  and  more  slowly,  because  the  latent  heat  in  the 
unfrozen  water  cannot  readily  escape  through  the  ice.  It  is 


40  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

therefore  retained,  just  as  the  latent  heat  in  the  water  of  an 
ice-covered  pond  is  retained." 

"  It  follows,  then,"  said  Leonard,  "  that  after  the  water  be- 
neath the  ice  in  the  tub  began  to  freeze  slowly,  the  flower-room, 
in  that  same  degree,  began  to  grow  cold." 

"  Certainly,  for  only  as  the  water  freezes  can  it  give  out  its 
latent  heat.  The  thick  wooden  side  of  the  tub  is  a  poor  con- 
ductor ;  the  ice  that  has  formed  over  the  surface  is  even  a 
worse,  and  so  the  water  within  is  shielded  from  the  cold.  It 
therefore  almost  ceases  to  freeze,  and  so  becomes  of  no  practi- 
cal use.  An  intelligent  understanding  of  these  principles  is  of 
great  practical  value.  If  I  could  have  waked  up  and  placed 
another  tub  of  water  in  the  room  at  two  or  three  o'clock,  or 
else  taken  all  of  the  ice  out  of  the  first  one,  the  process  of 
freezing  and  giving  out  heat  would  have  gone  on  rapidly  again, 
and  none  of  the  plants  would  have  suffered.  I  have  heard 
people  say  that  putting  water  in  a  cellar  was  all  a  humbug  — 
that  the  water  froze  and  the  vegetables  also.  Of  course  the 
vegetables  froze  after  the  water  congealed,  or  the  cellar  may 
have  been  so  defective  that  both  froze  at  the  same  time.  The 
latent  heat  given  out  by  a  small  amount  of  freezing  water  can- 
not counteract  any  great  severity  of  frost." 

"The  more  water  you  have,  then,  the  better?"  said  his 
father. 

"  Yes,  for  then  there  is  more  to  freeze,  and  the  effect  is  more 
gradual  and  lasting." 

"  I  feel  highly  honored,  Webb,"  said  his  mother,  smiling, 
"  that  so  much  science  should  minister  to  me  and  my  little  col- 
lection of  plants.  I  now  see  that  the  why  and  wherefore  comes 
in  very  usefully.  But  please  tell  me  why  you  put  the  plants 
that  were  touched  with  frost  into  cold  water,  and  why  you  will 
not  let  the  sunlight  fall  on  them?  " 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  you  would  put  your  hand  in 
cold  water  if  frost-bitten.  Your  expression,  '  touched  with 
frost,'  shows  that  there  is  hope  for  them.  If  they  were 


NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS.  41 

thoroughly  frozen  you  would  lose  them.  Your  plants,  you 
know,  are  composed  chiefly  of  water,  which  fills  innumerable 
little  cells  formed  by  the  vegetable  tissue.  If  the  water  in  the 
cells  is  chilled  beyond  a  certain  point,  if  it  becomes  solid  ice,  it 
expands  and  breaks  down  the  tissue  of  the  cells,  and  the  structure 
of  the  plant  is  destroyed.  If  the  frost  can  be  gradually  with- 
drawn so  as  to  leave  the  cells  substantially  intact,  they  can 
eventually  resume  their  functions,  and  the  plant  receive  no 
very  great  injury." 

"But  why  does  sudden  heat  or  sunlight  destroy  a  frosted  plant?" 
"  For  the  same  reason  that  it  breaks  down  the  vegetable 
tissue.  Heat  expands,  and  the  greater  the  heat  the  more  rapid 
the  expansion.  When  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  contain  a 
great  deal  of  heat,  fall  on  any  part  of  a  frost-bitten  plant,  that 
part  begins  to  expand  so  rapidly  and  violently  that  the  cellular 
tissues  are  ruptured,  and  life  is  destroyed.  What  is  more,  the 
heat  does  not  permeate  equally  and  at  once  the  parts  affected 
by  frost.  The  part  farthest  away  from  the  heat  remains 
contracted,  while  the  parts  receiving  it  expand  rapidly  and  un- 
equally, and  this  becomes  another  cause  for  the  breaking  up  of 
the  vegetable  tissue.  The  same  principle  is  illustrated  when  we 
turn  up  the  flame  of  a  lamp  suddenly.  The  glass  next  to  the 
flame  expands  so  rapidly  that  the  other  parts  cannot  keep  pace, 
and  so,  as  the  result  of  unequal  expansion,  the  chimney  goes  to 
pieces.  With  this  principle  in  mind,  we  seek  to  withdraw  the 
frost  and  to  re-apply  the  vivifying  heat  very  gradually  and  equally 
to  every  part,  so  that  the  vegetable  tissues  may  be  preserved 
unbroken.  This  is  best  done  by  immersing  them  in  cold  water, 
and  then  keeping  them  at  a  low  temperature  in  a  shady  place. 
As  the  various  parts  of  the  plant  resume  their  functions,  the 
light  and  heat  essential  to  its  life  and  growth  can  gradually  be 
increased."  * 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  your  theory  is  at  fault,  Webb,"  said 
Leonard.  "  How  is  it  that  some  plants  are  able  to  endure  such 
violent  alternations  of  heat  and  cold?" 


42  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  We  don't  have  to  go  far  —  at  least  I  do  not  —  before  com- 
ing to  the  limitations  of  knowledge.  What  it  is  in  the  struc- 
ture of  a  plant  like  the  pansy,  for  instance,  which  makes  it  so 
much  more  hardy  than  others  that  seem  stronger  and  more 
vigorous,  even  the  microscope  does  not  reveal.  Nature  has 
plenty  of  secrets  that  she  has  not  yet  told.  But  of  all  people 
in  the  world  those  who  obtain  their  livelihood  from  the  soil 
should  seek  to  learn  the  wherefore  of  everything,  for  such 
knowledge  often  doubles  the  prospect  of  success." 

"  Now,  Amy,"  said  Burtis,  laughing,  "  you  see  what  sort  of  a 
fellow  Webb  is.  You  cannot  even  sneeze  without  his  consider- 
ing the  wherefore  back  to  the  remotest  cause." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me,  Amy?"  asked  Webb. 

"No,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

Amy  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  unpacking  her 
trunks,  and  in  getting  settled  in  her  home-like  room.  It  soon 
began  to  take  on  a  familiar  air.  Hearts,  like  plants,  strike  root 
rapidly  when  the  conditions  are  favorable.  Johnnie  was  her 
delighted  assistant  much  of  the  time,  and  this  Christmas-day 
was  one  long  thrill  of  excitement  to  the  child.  Her  wonder 
grew  and  grew,  for  there  was  a  foreign  air  about  many  of  Amy's 
things,  and,  having  been  brought  from  such  a  long  distance, 
they  seemed  to  belong  to  another  world.  The  severe  cold  con- 
tinued, and  only  the  irrepressible  Burtis  ventured  out  to  any 
extent.  When  Alf 's  excitement  over  his  presents  began  to  flag, 
Webb  helped  him  make  two  box-traps,  and  the  boy  concealed 
them  in  the  copse  where  the  rabbit-tracks  were  thickest.  Only 
the  biting  frost  kept  him,  in  his  intense  eagerness,  from  remain- 
ing out  to  see  the  result.  Webb,  however,  taught  him  patience 
by  assuring  him  that  watched  traps  never  caught  game. 

Beyond  the  natural  home  festivities  the  day  passed  quietly, 
and  this  was  also  true  of  the  entire  holiday  season.  Cheerful- 
ness, happiness  abounded,  and  there  was  an  unobtrusive  effort 
on  the  part  of  every  one  to  surround  the  orphan  girl  with  a 
genial,  sunny  atmosphere.  And  yet  she  was  ever  made  to  feel 


NA  TURE  *S  HALF-KNO  WN  SEC  RE  TS.  43 

that  her  sorrow  was  remembered  and  respected.  She  saw  that 
Mr.  Clifford's  mind  was  often  busy  with  the  memory  of  his 
friend,  that  even  Burt  declined  invitations  to  country  merry- 
makings in  the  vicinity,  and  that  she  was  saved  the  ordeal  of 
meeting  gay  young  neighbors  with  whom  the  Clifford  home  was 
a  favorite  resort.  In  brief,  they  had  received  her  as  a  daughter 
of  the  house,  and  in  many  delicate  ways  proved  that  they  re- 
garded her  as  entitled  to  the  same  consideration  as  if  she  were 
one.  Meanwhile  she  was  shown  that  her  presence  cast  no 
gloom  over  the  family  life,  and  she  knew  and  they  knew  that  it 
would  be  her  father's  wish  that  she  should  share  in  all  the  heal- 
ing gladness  of  that  life.  No  true  friend  who  has  passed  on  to 
the  unclouded  shore  would  wish  to  leave  clouds  and  chilling 
shadows  as  a  legacy,  and  they  all  felt  that  in  Amy's  case  it  had 
been  her  father's  desire  and  effort  to  place  her  under  conditions 
that  would  develop  her  young  life  happily  and  therefore  health- 
fully. There  is  the  widest  difference  in  the  world  between 
cheerfulness  and  mirthfulness  which  arise  from  happy  home 
life  and  peaceful  hearts,  and  the  levity  that  is  at  once  unfeeling, 
inconsiderate,  and  a  sure  indication  of  a  coarse- fibred,  ill-bred 
nature.  Amy  was  made  to  feel  this,  and  she  found  little  indeed 
which  jarred  with  memories  that  were  only  sad,  not  bitter  or 
essentially  depressing.  Every  day  brought  new  assurance  that 
her  father's  wishes  and  hopes  in  her  behalf  had  been  fulfilled 
to  a  degree  that  must  have  added  to  his  heavenly  content, 
could  he  have  known  how  well  he  had  provided  for  her.  And 
so  the  busy  days  glided  on  ;  and  when  the  evening  brought  the 
household  together,  there  were  music,  reading  aloud,  and  genial 
family  talk,  which  usually  was  largely  colored  by  their  rural 
calling.  Therefore,  on  New- Year's  morning  Amy  stood  as  upon 
a  sunny  eminence,  and  saw  her  path  leading  away  amid  scenes 
that  promised  usefulness,  happiness,  and  content. 


44  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NEIGHBORS   DROP   IN. 

ONE  evening  early  in  the  year  three  neighbors  dropped  in. 
They  were  evidently  as  diverse  in  character  as  in  appear- 
ance. The  eldest  was  known  in  the  neighborhood  as  Squire 
Bartley,  having  long  been  a  justice  of  the  peace.  He  was  a 
large  landholder,  and  carried  on  his  farm  in  the  old-fashioned 
ways,  without  much  regard  to  system,  order,  or  improvement. 
He  had  a  big,  good-natured  red  face,  a  stout,  burly  form,  and  a 
corresponding  voice.  In  marked  contrast  with  his  aspect  and 
past  experience  was  Mr.  Alvord,  who  was  thin  almost  to  emaci- 
ation, and  upon  whose  pallid  face  not  only  ill-health  but  deep 
mental  suffering  had  left  their  unmistakable  traces.  He  was  a 
new-comer  into  the  vicinity,  and  little  was  known  of  his  past 
history  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  exchanged  city  life  for 
country  pursuits  in  the  hope  of  gaining  strength  and  vigor. 
He  ought  to  have  been  in  the  full  prime  of  cheerful  manhood, 
but  his  sombre  face  and  dark,  gloomy  eyes  indicated  that  some- 
thing had  occurred  in  the  past  which  so  deeply  shadowed  his 
life  as  to  make  its  long  continuance  doubtful.  He  had  not 
reached  middle  age,  and  yet  old  Mr.  Clifford  appeared  a  heart- 
ier man  than  he.  While  he  had  little  knowledge  of  rural  occu- 
pations, he  entered  into  them  with  eagerness,  apparently  finding 
them  an  antidote  for  sad  memories.  He  had  little  to  say,  but 
was  a  good  listener,  and  evidently  found  at  the  Cliffords'  a 
warmth  and  cheer  coming  not  from  the  hearth  only.  Webb  and 
Leonard  had  both  been  very  kind  to  him  in  his  inexperience, 


NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN.  45 

and  an  occasional  evening  at  their  fireside  was  the  only  social 
tendency  that  he  had  been  known  to  indulge.  Dr.  Marvin,  the 
third  visitor,  might  easily  compete  with  Burt  in  flow  of  spirits, 
and  in  his  day  had  been  quite  as  keen  a  sportsman.  But  he 
was  unlike  Burtis  in  this,  that  all  birds  were  game  to  him,  and 
for  his  purpose  were  always  in  season.  To  Emerson's  line, 

"  Hast  thou  named  all  the  birds  without  a  gun  ? " 

he  could  not  reply  in  the  affirmative,  and  yet  to  kill  as  many  as 
possible  had  never  been  his  object.  From  earliest  childhood 
he  had  developed  a  taste  for  ornithology,  and  the  study  of  the 
fauna  of  the  region  had  been  almost  his  sole  recreation  for  years. 
He  too  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Cliffords',  where  he  ever 
found  ready  listeners  and  questioners. 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  my  poultry,"  Squire 
Bartley  remarked,  after  the  weather,  politics,  and  harmless 
phases  of  local  gossip  had  been  discussed ;  "  they  are  getting  as 
poor  as  crows.  My  boys  say  that  they  are  fed  as  well  as  usual. 
What's  more,  I've  had  them  throw  down  for  'em  a  warm  mix- 
ture of  meal  and  potatoes  before  they  go  to  roost,  but  we  don't 
get  an  egg.  What  luck  are  you  having,  Leonard? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I'm  having  much  luck  in  the  mat- 
ter," Leonard  replied,  with  his  humorous  smile ;  "  but  I  can't 
complain.  Until  this  very  cold  weather  set  in  we  had  eggs  in 
plenty,  and  still  have  a  fair  supply.  I'm  inclined  to  think  that 
if  your  hens  are  the  right  kind,  and  are  properly  cared  for,  they 
can't  help  producing  eggs.  That  has  usually  been  my  experi- 
ence. I  don't  believe  much  in  luck,  but  there  are  a  few  simple 
things  that  are  essential  to  success  with  poultry  in  winter.  By 
the  way,  do  you  give  them  well  or  spring  water  to  drink?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  believe  we  do,  at  this  time  of  year.  I've 
so  arranged  it  that  the  drippings  from  the  eaves  of  the  barn  fall 
into  a  trough,  and  that  saves  trouble.  I  expect  the  boys  are 
careless,  too,  for  I've  seen  the  fowls  eating  snow  and  ice." 


46  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  That  accounts  for  your  poultry  being  like  crows,  for,  what- 
ever the  reason  may  be,  snow-water  will  soon  reduce  chickens 
to  mere  feathers  and  bones." 

"You  don't  say  so  !  "  cried  the  squire.  "  Well,  I  never  heard 
that  before.". 

"  I  don't  think  your  system  of  feeding  is  the  correct  one, 
either,"  pursued  Leonard.  "  You  give  your  hens  the  warm  meal 
to-morrow  evening,  as  usual,  and  then  about  midnight  go  to  the 
roosts  and  feel  of  their  crops.  I'll  warrant  you'll  find  them 
empty.  The  meal,  you  see,  digests  speedily,  and  is  soon  all 
gone.  Then  come  the  long  cold  hours  before  morning,  and 
the  poor  creatures  have  nothing  to  sustain  them,  and  they  be- 
come chilled  and  enfeebled.  It  takes  some  time  for  the  grain 
you  give  them  in  the  morning  to  digest,  and  so  they  are  left  too 
long  a  time  without  support.  Give  them  the  grain  in  the  even- 
ing—  corn  and  buckwheat  and  barley  mixed  —  and  there  is 
something  for  their  gizzards  to  act  on  all  night  long.  The  birds 
are  thus  sustained  and  kept  warm  by  their  food.  Then  in  the 
morning,  when  they  naturally  feel  the  cold  the  most,  give  them 
the  warm  food,  mixing  a  little  pepper  with  it  during  such 
weather  as  this." 

"  Well,"  remarked  the  squire,  "  I  guess  you're  right.  Anyway, 
I'll  try  your  plan.  One  is  apt  to  do  things  the  same  way  year 
after  year  without  much  thought  about  it." 

"  Then,  again,"  resumed  Leonard,  "  I-  find  it  pays  to  keep 
poultry  warm,  clean,  and  well  sheltered.  In  very  cold  weather 
I  let  them  out  only  for  an  hour  or  two.  The  rest  of  the  time 
they  are  shut  up  in  the  chicken-house,  which  has  an  abundance 
of  light,  and  is  well  ventilated.  Beneath  the  floor  of  the 
chicken-house  is  a  cellar,  which  I  can  fill  with  stable  manure, 
and  graduate  the  heat  by  its  fermentation.  This  acts  like  a 
steady  furnace.  There  is  room  in  the  cellar  to  turn  the  manure 
from  time  to  time  to  prevent  its  becoming  fire-fanged,  so  that 
there  is  no  loss  in  this  respect.  Between  the  heat  from  beneath, 
and  the  sun  streaming  in  the  windows  on  the  south  side  of  the 


NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN.  47 

house,  I  can  keep  my  laying  hens  warm  even  in  zero  weather ; 
and  I  make  it  a  point  not  to  have  too  many.  Beyond  a  certain 
number,  the  more  you  have  the  worse  you're  off,  for  poultry 
won't  stand  crowding." 

"  You  farmers,"  put  in  Dr.  Marvin,  "  are  like  the  doctors,  who 
kill  or  cure  too  much  by  rule  and  precedent.  You  get  into 
certain  ways  or  ruts,  and  stick  to  them.  A  little  thought  and 
observation  would  often  greatly  modify  your  course.  Now  in 
regard  to  your  poultry,  you  should  remember  that  they  all  existed 
once  as  nature  made  them  —  they  were  wild,  and  domestication 
cannot  wholly  change  their  character.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
way  to  learn  how  to  manage  fowls  successfully  is  to  observe  their 
habits  and  modes  of  life  when  left  to  themselves.  In  summer, 
when  they  have  a  range,  we  find  them  eating  grass,  seeds,  insects, 
etc.  In  short,  they  are  omnivorous.  In  winter,  when  they  can't 
get  these  things,  they  are  often  fed  one  or  two  kinds  of  grain 
continuously.  Now,  from  their  very  nature,  they  need  in  winter 
all  the  kinds  of  food  that  they  instinctively  select  when  foraging 
for  themselves  —  fresh  vegetables,  meat,  and  varieties  of  seeds 
or  grain.  We  give  to  our  chickens  all  the  refuse  from  the 
kitchen  —  the  varied  food  we  eat  ourselves,  with  the  exception 
of  that  which  contains  a  large  percentage  of  salt  —  and  they 
thrive  and  lay  well.  Before  they  are  two  years  old  we  decapitate 
them.  Old  fowls,  with  rare  exceptions,  will  not  lay  in  winter." 

Sad-eyed  Mr.  Alvord  listened  as  if  there  were  more  consola- 
tion and  cheer  in  this  talk  on  poultry  than  in  the  counsel  of 
sages.  The  "  chicken  fever  "  is  more  inevitable  in  a  man's  life 
than  the  chicken-pox,  and  sooner  or  later  all  who  are  exposed 
succumb  to  it.  Seeing  the  interest  developing  in  his  neighbor's 
face,  Leonard  said,  briskly : 

"  Mr.  Alvord,  here's  an  investment  that  will  pay  you  to  con- 
sider. The  care  of  poultry  involves  light  and  intelligent  labor, 
and  therefore  is  adapted  to  those  who  cannot  well  meet  the 
rough  and  heavy  phases  of  out-door  work.  The  fowls  often 
become  pets  to  their  keepers,  and  the  individual  oddities  and 


48  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

peculiarities  of  character  form  an  amusing  study  which  is  not 
wanting  in  practical  advantages.  The  majority  of  people  keep 
ordinary  barn-door  fowls,  which  are  the  result  of  many  breeds 
or  strains.  The  consequence  is  almost  as  great  diversity  of 
character  within  gallinaceous  limits  as  exists  in  the  families 
that  care  for  them.  For  instance,  one  hen  is  a  good,  persistent 
layer ;  another  is  a  patient,  brooding  mother ;  a  third  is  fickle, 
and  leaves  her  nest  so  often  arid  for  such  long  intervals  that  the 
eggs  become  chilled,  and  incubation  ceases.  Some  are  tame 
and  tractable,  others  as  wild  as  hawks,  and  others  still  are  not 
of  much  account  in  any  direction,  and  are  like  commonplace 
women,  who  are  merely  good  to  count  when  the  census  is 
taken."  , 

"  I  hope  you  make  no  reference  to  present  company,"  Maggie 
remarked. 

Leonard  gave  his  wife  one  of  his  humorous  looks  as  he  re- 
plied, "  I  never  could  admit  that  in  regard  to  you,  for  it  would 
prove  too  much  against  myself.  The  idea  of  my  picking  out  a 
commonplace  woman  ! " 

"  Leonard  knows,  as  we  all  do,  that  he  would  be  like  a  de- 
capitated chicken  himself  without  her,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  with 
her  low  laugh. 

Maggie  smiled.  This  was  re-assuring  from  the  mother  of  the 
eldest  and  favorite  son. 

"  Well,"  remarked  Squire  Bartley,  sententiously,  "  there  are 
old  housewives  in  the  neighborhood  that  have  more  luck  with 
poultry  than  any  of  you,  with  all  your  science." 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin.  "  You  know  a  little  about 
law,  squire,  and  I  less  about  medicine,  perhaps,  and  yet  any 
good  mother  could  take  care  of  a  lot  of  children  better  than 
we  could.  There  is  old  Mrs.  Mulligan,  on  the  creek  road. 
She  raises  ducks,  geese,  and  chickens  innumerable,  and  yet  I 
fail  to  see  much  luck  in  her  management ;  but  she  has  learned 
from  experience  a  better  skill  than  the  books  could  have  taught 
her,  for  she  said  to  me  one  day,  '  I  jis  thries  to  foind  out  what 


NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN.  49 

the  crathers  wants,  and  I  gives  it  to  'em.'  She  knows  the  char- 
acter of  every  hen,  duck,  and  goose  she  has,  and  you  don't 
catch  her  wasting  a  sitting  of  eggs  under  a  fickle  biddy.  And 
then  she  watches  over  her  broods  as  Mrs.  Leonard  does  over 
hers.  Don't  talk  about  luck.  There  has  been  more  of  intelli- 
gent care  than  luck  in  bringing  up  this  boy  Alf.  I  believe  in 
book- farming  as  much  as  any  one,  but  a  successful  farmer  could 
not  be  made  by  books  only ;  nor  could  I  ever  learn  to  be  a 
skilful  physician  from  books,  although  all  the  horses  on  your 
place  could  not  haul  the  medical  literature  extant.  I  must 
adopt  Mrs.  Mulligan's  tactics,  and  so  must  you.  We  must  find 
out '  what  the  crathers  want,'  be  they  plants,  stock,  or  that  most 
difficult  subject  of  all,  the  human  crather.  .  He  succeeds  best 
who  does  this  in  season,  and  not  out  of  season."  • 

"  You  are  right,  doctor,"  said  Leonard,  laughing.  "  I  agree 
with  what  you  say  about  the  varied  diet  of  poultry  in  general, 
and  also  in  particular,  and  I  conform  my  practice  to  your  views. 
At  the  same  time  I  am  convinced  that  failure  and  partial  suc- 
cess with  poultry  result  more  from  inadequate  shelter  and  lack 
of  cleanliness  than  from  lack  of  proper  food.  It  does  not  often 
happen  in  the  country  that  fowls  are  restricted  to  -a  narrow 
yard  or  run,  and  when  left  to  themselves  they  pick  up,  even  in 
winter,  much  and  varied  food  in  and  about  the  barn.  But  how 
rarely  is  proper  shelter  provided  !  It  is  almost  as  injurious  for 
poultry  as  it  would  be  for  us  to  be  crowded,  and  subjected  to 
draughts,  dampness,  and  cold.  They  may  survive,  but  they 
can't  thrive  and  be  profitable.  In  many  instances  they  are  not 
even  protected  from  storms,  and  it's  a  waste  of  grain  to  feed 
poultry  that  roost  under  a  dripping  roof." 

"  Well,"  said  the  squire,  "  I  guess  we've  been  rather  slack. 
I  must  send  my  boys  over  to  see  how  you  manage." 

"Amy,"  remarked  Burtis,  laughing,  "you  are  very  polite. 
You  are  trying  to  look  as  if  you  were  interested." 

"  I  am  interested,"  said  the  young  girl,  positively.  "  One  of 
the  things  I  liked  best  in  English  people  was  their  keen  interest 


50  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

in  all  rural  pursuits.  Papa  did  not  care  much  for  such  things ; 
but  now  that  I  am  a  country  girl  I  intend  to  learn  all  I  can 
about  country  life." 

Amy  had  not  intended  this  as  a  politic  speech,  but  it  never- 
theless won  her  the  increased  good-will  of  all  present.  Burtis 
whispered, 

"  Let  me  be  your  instructor." 

Something  like  a  smile  softened  Webb's  rugged  face,  but  he 
did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  fire. 

"If  her  words  are  not  the  result  of  a  passing  impulse,"  he 
thought,  "  sooner  or  later  she  will  come  to  me.  Nature,  how- 
ever, tolerates  no  fitful,  half-hearted  scholars,  and  should  she 
prove  one,  she  will  be  contented  with  Burt's  out-of-door  fun." 

"  Miss  Amy,"  remarked  Dr.  Marvin,  vivaciously,  "  if  you  will 
form  some  of  my  tastes  you  will  never  suffer  from  ennui. 
Don't  be  alarmed ;  I  have  not  drugs  in  my  mind.  Doctors 
rarely  take  their  own  medicine.  You  don't  look  very  strong, 
and  have  come  back  to  your  native  land  with  the  characteristics 
of  a  delicate  American  girl,  rather  than  the  vigor  of  an  English 
one.  I  fear  you  slighted  British  beef  and  mutton.  If  I  were 
so  officious  as  to  prescribe  unasked,  I  should  put  you  on  birds 
for  several  months,  morning,  noon,  and  evening.  Don't  you  be 
officious  also,  Burt.  It's  on  the  end  of  your  tongue  to  say  that 
you  will  shoot  them  for  her.  I  had  no  such  commonplace 
meaning.  I  meant  that  Miss  Amy  should  enjoy  the  birds  in 
their  native  haunts,  and  learn  to  distinguish  the  different  vari- 
eties by  their  notes,  plumage,  and  habits.  Such  recreation 
would  take  her  often  out-of-doors,  and  fill  every  spring  and 
summer  day  with  zest." 

"  But,  Dr.  Marvin,"  cried  Amy,  "  is  not  the  study  of  orni- 
thology rather  a  formidable  undertaking?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  prompt  reply.     "  I  sometimes  feel  as  if 
could  devote  several  lifetimes  to  it.     But  is  it  such  a  formidable 
thing  to  begin  with  a  few  of  our  commonest  birds,  like  the 
robin  or  wren,  for  instance ;  to  note  when  they  first  arrive  from 


NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN.  5  i 

their  southern  sojourn,  the  comical  scenes  of  courtship  and 
rivalry  in  the  trees  about  the  door,  the  building  of  their  homes, 
and  their  housekeeping?  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  1  find  some  of 
my  patients  consumed  with  a  gossipy  interest  in  their  neighbors' 
affairs>l  If  that  interest  were  transferred  to  the  families  residing 
in  the  cherry  and  apple  trees,  to  happy  little  homes  that  often 
can  be  watched  even  from  our  windows,  its  exercise  would  have 
a  much  better  effect  on  health  and  character.  When  a  taste 
for  such  things  is  once  formed,  it  is  astonishing  how  one  thing 
leads  to  another,  and  how  fast  knowledge  is  gained.  The 
birds  will  soon  begin  to  arrive,  Miss  Amy,  and  a  goodly  number 
stay  with  us  all  winter.  Pick  out  a  few  favorite  kinds,  and  form 
their  intimate  acquaintance.  I  would  suggest  that  you  learn  to 
identify  some  of  the  birds  that  nest  near  the  house,  and  follow 
their  fortunes  through  the  spring  and  as  late  in  the  summer  as 
their  stay  permits,  keeping  a  little  diary  of  your  observations. 
Alf  here  will  be  a  famous  ally.  You  will  find  these  little  bird 
histories,  as  they  develop  from  day  to  day,  more  charming  than 
a  serial  story."  Ji^- 

It  were  hard  to  tell  who  was  the  more  captivated  by  the 
science  of  ornithology,  Amy  or  Alf,  when  this  simple  and 
agreeable  method  for  its  study  was  suggested.  Mr.  Alvord 
looked  wistfully  at  the  unalloyed  pleasure  of  the  boy  and  the 
young  girl  as  they  at  once  got  together  on  the  sofa  and  dis- 
cussed the  project.  He  quietly  remarked  to  the  doctor,  "  I 
also  shall  make  time  to  follow  your  suggestion,  and  shall  look 
forward  to  some  congenial  society  without  my  home  if  not 
within  it." 

"  See  what  comes  from  being  enthusiastic  about  a  thing  !  " 
laughed  the  doctor.  "  I  have  made  three  converts." 

Mrs.  Leonard  looked  furtively  and  pityingly  at  the  lonely  Mr. 
.  vord.  A  man  without  a  wife  to  take  care  of  him  was  to  her 
one  of  the  forlornest  of  objects,  and  with  secret  satisfaction  she 
thought,  "  Leonard,  I  imagine,  would  find  the  birds'  house- 
keeping a  poor  substitute  for  mine." 


52  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


"  O  PEAKING  of  birds,  doctor,  there  are  some  big  fellows 

v3  around  this  winter,"  said  Burtis.  "  While  in  the  moun- 
tains with  the  wood  teams  some  days  since  I  saw  a  gray  and  a 
bald  eagle  sailing  around,  but  could  not  get  a  shot  at  them. 
As  soon  as  it  grows  milder  I  am  going  up  to  the  cliffs  on  the 
river  to  see  if  I  can  get  within  rifle  range." 

"  Oh,  come,  Burt,  I  thought  you  were  too  good  a  sportsman 
to  make  such  a  mistake,"  the  doctor  rejoined.  "  A  gray  eagle 
is  merely  a  young  bald  eagle.  We  have  only  two  species  of 
the  genuine  eagle  in  this  country,  the  bald,  or  American,  and 
the  golden,  or  ring-tailed.  The  latter  is  very  rare,  for  their 
majesties  are  not  fond  of  society,  even  of  their  own  kind,  and 
two  nests  are  seldom  found  \yithin  thirty  miles  of  each  other. 
The  bald  eagle  has  been  common  enough,  and  I  have  shot 
many.  One  morning  long  ago  I  shot  two,  and  had  quite  a 
funny  experience  with  one  of  them." 

"  Pray  tell  us  about  it,"  said  Burtis,  glad  of  a  diversion  from 
his  ornithological  shortcomings. 

"Well,  one  February  morning  (I  could  not  have  been  much 
over  fourteen  at  the  time)  I  crossed  the  river  on  the  ice,  and 
took  the  train  for  Peekskill.  Having  transacted  my  business 
and  procured  a  good  supply  of  ammunition,  I  started  home- 
ward. From  the  car  windows  I  saw  two  eagles  circling  over 
the  cliffs  of  the  lower  Highlands,  and  with  the  rashness  and  in- 
experience of  a  boy  I  determined  to  leave  the  train  while  it 


EAGLES.  53 

was  under  full  headway.  I  passed  through  to  the  rear  car, 
descended  to  the  lowest  step,  and,  without  realizing  my  danger, 
watched  for  a  level  place  that  promised  well  for  the  mad  pro- 
ject. Such  a  spot  soon  occurring,  I  grasped  the  iron  rail 
tightly  with  my  right  hand,  and  with  my  gun  in  my  left  I 
stepped  off  into  the  snow,  which  was  wet  and  slushy.  My  foot 
bounded  up  and  back  as  if  I  had  been  india-rubber,  and  main- 
taining my  hold  I  streamed  away  behind  the  car  in  an  almost 
horizontal  position.  About  once  in  every  thirty  feet  my  foot 
struck  the  ground,  bounded  up  and  back,  and  I  .streamed  away 
again  as  if  I  were  towed  or  carried  through  the  air.  After  tak- 
ing a  few  steps  of  this  character,  which  exceeded  any  attributed 
to  giants  in  fairy-lore,  I  saw  I  was  in  for  it,  and  the  next  time 
my  foot  struck  I  let  go,  and  splashed,  with  a  force  that  I  even 
now  ache  to  think  of,  into  the  wet  snow.  It's  a  wonder  I  didn't 
break  my  neck,  but  I  scrambled  up  not  very  much  the  worse 
for  my  tumble.  There  were  the  eagles ;  my  gun  was  all  right, 
and  that  was  all  I  cared  for  at  the  time.  I  soon  loaded,  using 
the  heaviest  shot  I  had,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  great  birds 
sailed  over  my  head.  I  devoted  a  barrel  to  each,  and  down 
they  both  came,  fluttering,  whirling,  and  uttering  cries  that 
Wilson  describes  as  something  like  a  maniacal  laugh.  One 
lodged  in  the  top  of  a  tall  hemlock,  and  stuck  ;  the  other  came 
flapping  and  crashing  through  another  tree  until  stopped  by  the 
lower  limbs,  where  it  remained.  I  now  saw  that  their  distance 
had  been  so  great  that  I  had  merely  disabled  them,  and  I  began 
reloading,  but  I  was  so  wild  from  excitement  and  exultation 
that  I  put  in  the  shot  first.  Of  course  my  caps  only  snapped, 
and  the  eagle  in  the  hemlock  top,  recovering  a  brief  renewal 
of  strength  after  the  shock  of  his  wound,  flew  slowly  and  heavily 
away,  and  fell  on  the  ice  near  the  centre  of  the  river.  I  after- 
wards learned  that  it  was  carried  off  by  some  people  on  an  ice- 
boat. The  other  eagle,  whose  wing  I  had  broken,  now  reached 
the  ground,  and  I  ran  towards  it,  determined  that  I  should  not 
lose  both  of  my  trophies.  As  I  approached  I  saw  that  I  had 


54  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

an  ugly  customer  to  deal  with,  for  the  bird,  finding  that  he 
could  not  escape,  threw  himself  on  his  back,  with  his  tail 
doubled  under  him,  and  was  prepared  to  strike  blows  with  tal- 
ons and  beak  that  would  make  serious  wounds.  I  resolved  to 
take  my  game  home  alive,  and  after  a  little  thought  cut  a 
crotched  stick,  with  which  I  held  his  head  down  while  I  fas- 
tened his  feet  together.  A  man  who  now  appeared  walking 
down  the  track  aided  me  in  securing  the  fierce  creature,  which 
task  we  accomplished  by  tying  some  coarse  bagging  round  his 
wings,  body,  and  talons.  I  then  went  on  to  the  nearest  station 
in  order  to  take  the  train  homeward.  Of  course  the  eagle  at- 
tracted a  great  deal  of  attention  in  the  cars  —  more  than  he 
seemed  to  enjoy,  for  he  soon  grew  very  restless.  I  was  approach- 
ing my  destination,  and  three  or  four  people  were  about  me,  talk- 
ing, pointing,  and  trying  to  touch  the  bird,  when  he  made  a  sudden 
dive.  The  bagging  round  his  wings  and  feet  gave  way,  and  so 
did  the  people  on  every  side.  Down  through  the  aisle,  flapping 
and  screaming,  went  the  eagle ;  and  the  ladies,  with  skirts 
abridged,  stood  on  the  seats  and  screamed  quite  as  discordantly. 
Not  a  man  present  would  help  me,  but,  mounting  on  their  seats, 
they  vociferated  advice.  The  conductor  appeared  on  the  scene, 
and  I  said  that  if  he  would  head  the  bird  off  I  would  catch 
him.  This  he  agreed  to  do,  but  he  no  sooner  saw  the  eagle 
bearing  down  on  him  with  his  savage  eye  and  beak  than  he,  as 
nimbly  as  the  best  of  them,  hopped  upon  a  seat,  and  stood  be- 
side a  woman,  probably  for  her  protection.  A  minute  or  two 
later  the  train  stopped  at  my  station,  and  I  was  almost  desper- 
ate. Fortunately  I  was  in  the  last  car,  and  I  drove  my  eagle 
towards  the  rear  door,  from  which,  by  the  vigorous  use  of  my 
feet,  I  induced  him  to  alight  on  the  ground  —  the  first  passenger 
of  the  kind,  I  am  sure,  that  ever  left  the  cars  at  that  station. 
After  several  minor  adventures,  I  succeeded  in  getting  him 
home.  I  hoped  to  keep  him  alive,  but  he  would  not  eat ;  so  I 
stuffed  him  in  the  only  way  I  could,  and  he  is  now  one  of  my 
specimens." 


EAGLES.  55 

"  Well,"  said  Burt,  laughing,  "  that  exceeds  any  eagle  adven- 
ture that  I  have  heard  of  in  this  region.  In  the  car  business 
you  certainly  brought  his  majesty  down  to  the  prose  of  common 
life,  and  I  don't  wonder  the  regal  bird  refused  to  eat  thereafter." 

"  Cannot  eagles  be  tamed  —  made  gentle  and  friendly?  "  old 
Mrs.  Clifford  asked.  "  I  think  I  remember  hearing  that  you 
had  a  pet  eagle  years  ago." 

"Yes,  I  kept  one  —  a  female  —  six  months.  She  was  an 
unusually  large  specimen,  and  measured  about  eight  feet  with 
wings  extended.  The  females  of  all  birds  of  prey,  you  know, 
are  larger  than  the  males.  As  in  the  former  case,  I  had  broken 
one  of  her  wings,  and  she  also  threw  herself  on  her  back  and 
made  her  defence  in  the  most  savage  mann|J?<vvAlthough  I 
took  every  precaution  in  my  power,  my  handswere  bleeding  in 
several  places  before  I  reached  home,  and,  in  fact,  she  kept 
them  in  a  rather  dilapidated  condition  all  the  time  I  had  her. 
I  placed  her  in  a  large  empty  room  connected  with  the  barn, 
and  found  her  ready  enough  to  eat.  Indeed,  she  was  voracious, 
and  the  savage  manner  in  which  she  tore  and  swallowed  her 
food  was  not  a  pleasant  spectacle.  I  bought  several  hundred 
live  carp  —  a  cheap,  bony  fish — and  put  them  in  a  ditch  where 
I  could  take  them  with  a  net  as  I  wanted  them.  The  eagle 
would  spring  upon  a  fish,  take  one  of  her  long  hops  into  a  cor- 
ner, and  tear  off  its  head  with  one  stroke  of  her  beak.  While 
I  was  curing  her  broken  wing  the  creature  tolerated  me  after  a 
fashion,  but  when  she  was  well  she  grew  more  and  more  savage 
and  dangerous.  Once  a  Dutchman,  who  worked  for  us,  came 
in  with  me,  and  the  way  the  eagle  chased  that  man  around  the 
room  and  out  of  the  door,  he  swearing  meanwhile  in  high 
German  and  on  a  high  key,  was  a  sight  to  remember.  I  was 
laughing  immoderately,  when  the  bird  swooped  down  on  my 
shoulder,  and  the  scars  would  have  been  there  to-day  had  not 
her  talons  been  dulled  by  their  constant  attrition  with  the  boards 
of  her  extemporized  cage.  Covering  my  face  with  my  arm  — 
for  she  could  take  one's  eye  out  by  a  stroke  of  her  beak  —  I 


NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 


also  retreated.  She  then  dashed  against  the  window  with  such 
force  that  she  bent  the  wood-work  and  broke  every  pane  of 
glass.  She  seemed  so  wild  for  freedom  that  I  gave  it  to  her, 
but  the  foolish  creature,  instead  of  sailing  far  away,  lingered  on 
a  bluff  near  the  river,  and  soon  boys  and  men  were  out  after 
her  with  shot-guns.  I  determined  that  they  should  not  mangle 
her  to  no  purpose,  and  so,  with  the  aid  of  my  rifle,  I  added  her 
also  to  my  collection  of  specimens." 

"Have     you     ever    found    one    of    their    nests?"    Webb 
asked. 


A    WHITE    LANDSCAPE. 


"Yes.  They  are  rather  curious  affairs,  and  are  sometimes 
five  feet  in  diameter  each  way,  and  quite  flat  at  the  top.  They 
use  for  the  substratum  of  the  domicile  quite  respectable  cord- 
wood  sticks,  thicker  than  one's  wrist.  The  mother-bird  must 
be  laying  her  eggs  at  this  season,  cold  as  it  is.  But  they  don't 
mind  the  cold,  for  they  nest  above  the  arctic  circle." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  is  possible  for  them  to  protect 
their  eggs  and  young  in  such  severe  weather,"  Mrs.  Clifford 
remarked. 

"  Nature  takes  care  of  her  own  in  her  own  way,"  replied  the 


EAGLES.  57 

doctor,  with  a  slight  shrug.  "  One  of  the  birds  always  remains 
on  the  nest." 

"  Well,"  said  Squire  Bartley,  who  had  listened  rather  impa- 
tiently to  so  much  talk  about  an  unprofitable  bird,  "  I  wish  my 
hens  were  laying  now.  Seems  to  me  that  Nature  does  better 
by  eagles  and  crows  than  by  any  fowls  I  ever  had.  Good-night, 
friends." 

With  a  wistful  glance  at  Amy's  pure  young  face,  and  a  sigh 
so  low  that  only  pitiful  Mrs.  Leonard  heard  it,  Mr.  Alvord  also 
bowed  himself  out  in  his  quiet  way. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Burtis,  resolutely,  "  you  have  excited  my 
strongest  emulation,  and  I  shall  never  be  content  until  I  have 
brought  down  an  eagle  or  two." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  I 
should  think  that  you  would  have  had  enough  of  eagles, 
and  of  me  also,  by  this  time.  Remember,  Miss  Amy,  I  pre- 
scribe birds,  but  don't  watch  a  bald-eagle's  nest  too  closely. 
We  are  not  ready  to  part  with  your  bright  eyes  any  more  than 


58  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

SLEIGHING   IN   THE    HIGHLANDS. 

DURING  the  night  there  was  a  slight  fall  of  snow,  and 
Webb  explained  at  the  breakfast- table  that  its  descent 
had  done  more  to  warm  the  air  than  would  have  been  accom- 
plished by  the  fall  of  an  equal  amount  of  red-hot  sand.  But 
more  potent  than  the  freezing  particles  of  vapor  giving  off  their 
latent  heat  were  the  soft  south  wind  and  the  bright  sunshine, 
which  seemingly  had  the  warmth  of  May. 

"  Come,  Amy,"  said  Burtis,  exultantly,  "  this  is  no  day  to 
mope  in  the  house.  If  you  will  trust  yourself  to  me  and 
Thunder,  you  shall  skim  the  river  there  as  swiftly  as  you  can 
next  summer  on  the  fastest  steamer." 

Amy  was  too  English  to  be  afraid  of  a  horse,  and  with  wraps 
that  soon  proved  burdensome  in  the  increasing  warmth  of  the 
day,  she  and  Burt  dashed  down  the  slopes  and  hill  that  led  to 
the  river,  and  out  upon  the  wide,  white  plain.  She  was  a  little 
nervous  as  she  thought  of  the  fathoms  of  cold,  dark  water  be- 
neath her ;  but  when  she  saw  the  great  loads  of  lumber  and 
coal  that  were  passing  to  and  fro  on  the  track  she  was  con- 
vinced that  the  ice-bridge  was  safe,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to 
the  unalloyed  enjoyment  of  the  grand  scenery.  First  they 
crossed  Newburgh  Bay,  with  the  city  rising  steeply  on  one  side, 
and  the  Beacon  Mountains  farther  away  on  the  other.  The 
snow  covered  the  ice  unbrokenly,  except  as  tracks  crossed  here 
and  there  to  various  points.  Large  flocks  of  crows  were  feed- 
ing on  these  extemporized  roadways,  and  they  looked  blacker 


SLEIGHING  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS.  59 

than  crows  in  the  general  whiteness.  As  the  sleigh  glided  here 
and  there  it  was  hard  for  Amy  to  believe  that  they  were  in  the 
track  of  steamers  and  innumerable  sail-boats,  and  that  the  dis- 
tant shores  did  not  slope  down  to  a  level  plain,  on  which  the 
grass  and  grain  would  wave  in  the  coming  June  ;  but  when  Burt 
turned  southward  and  drove  under  the  great  beetling  mountains, 
and  told  her  that  their  granite  feet  were  over  a  hundred  yards 
deep  in  the  water,  she  understood  the  marvellous  engineering 
of  the  frost-spirit  that  had  spanned  the  river,  where  the  tides 
are  so  swift,  and  had  so  strengthened  it  in  a  few  short  days  and 
nights  that  it  could  bear  enormous  burdens. 

Never  before  had  she  seen  such  grand  and  impressive 
scenery.  They  could  drive  within  a  few  feet  of  the  base  of 
Storm  King  and  Cro'  Nest ;  and  the  great  precipices  and  rocky 
ledges,  from  which  often  hung  long,  glittering  icicles,  seemed 
tenfold  more  vast  than  when  seen  from  a  distance.  The  fur- 
rowed granite  cliffs,  surmounted  by  snow,  looked  like  giant 
faces,  lined  and  wrinkled  by  age  and  passion.  Even  the  bright 
sunshine  could  do  little  to  soften  their  frowning  grandeur. 
Amy's  face  became  more  and  more  serious  as  the  majesty  of 
the  landscape  impressed  her,  and  she  grew  silent  under  Burtis's 
light  talk.  At  last  she  said  : 

"  How  transient  and  insignificant  one  feels  among  these 
mountains  !  They  could  not  have  looked  very  different  on  the 
morning  when  Adam  first  saw  Eve." 

"  They  are  indeed  superb,"  replied  Burt,  "  and  I  am  glad  my 
home  —  our  home  —  is  among  them  ;  and  yet  I  am  sure  that 
Adam  would  have  found  Eve  more  attractive  than  all  the 
mountains  in  the  world,  just  as  I  find  your  face,  flushed  by  the 
morning  air,  far  more  interesting  than  these  hills  that  I  have 
known  and  loved  so  long." 

"My  face  is  a  novelty,  brother  Burt,"  she  answered,  with 
deepening  color,  for  the  young  fellow's  frequent  glances  of 
admiration  were  slightly  embarrassing. 

"  Strange  to  say,  it  is  growing  so  familiar  that  I  seem  to  have 


60  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

known  you  all  my  life,"  he  responded,  with  a  touch  of  tender- 
ness in  his  tone. 

"  That  is  because  I  am  your  sister,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  Both 
the  word  and  the  relation  suggest  the  idea  that  we  have  grown 
up  together,"  and  then  she  changed  the  subject  so  decidedly 
that  even  impetuous  Burt  felt  that  he  must  be  more  prudent  in 
expressing  the  interest  which  daily  grew  stronger.  As  they  were 
skirting  Constitution  Island  Amy  exclaimed  : 

"  What  a  quaint  old  house  !     Who  lives  there  all  alone? " 

"  Some  one  that  you  know  about,  I  imagine.  Have  you  ever 
read  '  The  Wide,  Wide  World  '  ?  " 

"What  girl  has  not?" 

"Well,  Miss  Warner,  the  author  of  the  book,  resides  there. 
The  place  has  an  historical  interest  also.  Do  you  see  those  old 
walls  ?  They  were  built  over  one  hundred  years  ago.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolution  the  Continental  authorities  were 
stupid  enough  to  spend  considerable  money,  for  that  period,  in 
the  building  of  a  fort  on  those  rocks.  Any  one  might  have 
seen  that  the  higher  ground  opposite,  at  West  Point,  com- 
manded the  position." 

"  No  matter  about  the  fort.     Tell  me  of  Miss  Warner." 

"Well,  she  and  her  sister  spend  their  summers  there,  and  are 
ever  busy  writing,  I  believe.  I'll  row  you  down  in  the  spring 
after  they  return.  They  are  not  there  in  winter,  I  am  told.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  she  will  receive  you  kindly,  and  tell  you  all 
about  herself." 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  remind  you  of  your  promise,  and  I  don't 
believe  she  will  resent  a  very  brief  call  from  one  who  longs  to 
see  her  and  speak  with  her.  I  am  not  curious  about  celebrities 
in  general,  but  there  are  some  writers  whose  words  have  touched 
my  heart,  and  whom  I  would  like  to  see  and  thank.  Where 
are  you  going  now?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  show  you  West  Point  in  its  winter  aspect. 
You  will  find  it  a  charming  place  to  visit  occasionally,  only  you 
must  not  go  so  often  as  to  catch  the  cadet  fever." 


SLEIGHING  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS.  6 1 

"  Pray  what  is  that?" 

"  It  is  an  acute  attack  of  admiration  for  very  young  men  of 
a  military  cut.  I  use  the  word  cut  advisedly,  for  these  incipient 
soldiers  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  carved  out  of  wood.  They 
gradually^get  over  their  stiffness,  however,  and  as  officers  usually 
have  a  fine  bearing,  as  you  may  see  if  we  meet  any  of  them. 
I  wish,  though,  that  you  could  see  a  squad  of  '  plebes '  drilling. 
They  would  provoke  a  grin  on  the  face  of  old  Melancholy  him- 
self." 

"  Where  is  the  danger,  then,  of  acute  admiration?" 

"  Well,  they  improve,  I  suppose,  and  are  said  to  be  quite 
irresistible  during  the  latter  part  of  their  course.  You  need 
not  laugh.  If  you  knew  how  many  women  —  some  of  them 
old  enough  to  be  the  boys'  mothers  —  had  succumbed,  you 
would  take  my  warning  to  heart." 

"  What  nonsense  !     You  are  a  little  jealous  of  them,  Burt." 

"  I  should  be  indeed  if  you  took  a  fancy  to  any  of  them." 

"Well,  I  sup'pose  that  is  one  of  the  penalties  of  having 
brothers.  Are  all  these  houses  officers'  quarters?" 

They  had  now  left  the  ice,  and  were  climbing  the  hill  as  he 
replied  : 

"  No,  indeed.  This  is  Logtown  —  so  named,  I  suppose,  be- 
cause in  the  earlier  days  of  the  post  log  huts  preceded  these 
small  wooden  houses.  They  are  chiefly  occupied  by  enlisted 
men  and  civilian  employees.  That  large  building  is  the  band 
barracks.  The  officers'  quarters,  with  a  few  exceptions,  are 
just  above  the  brow  of  the  hill  west  and  south  of  the 
plain." 

In  a  few  moments  Amy  saw  the  wide  parade  and  drill  ground, 
now  covered  with  untrodden  snow. 

"  What  a  strange  formation  of  land,  right  in  among  the 
mountains  !  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  companion.  "  Nature  could  not  have 
designed  a  better  place  for  a  military  school.  It  is  very  acces- 
sible, yet  easily  guarded,  and  the  latter  is  an  important  point, 


62  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

for  some  of  the  cadets  are  very  wild,  and  disposed  towards 
larks." 

"  I  imagine  that  they  are  like  other  young  fellows.  Were 
you  a  saint  at  college  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  think  otherwise  ?  There,  just  opposite  to  us, 
out  on  the  plain,  the  evening  parade  takes  place  after  the  spring 
fairly  opens.  I  shall  bring  you  down  to  see  it,  and  'tis  a  pretty 
sight.  The  music  also  is  fine.  Oh,  I  shall  be  magnanimous, 
and  procure  you  some  introductions  if  you  wish." 

"  Thank  you.  That  will  be  the  best  policy.  These  substan- 
tial buildings  on  our  right  are  the  officers'  quarters,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes.  That  is  the  commandant's,  and  the  one  beyond  it  is 
the  superintendent's.  They  are  both  usually  officers  of  high 
rank,  who  have  made  an  honorable  record  for  themselves.  The 
latter  has  entire  charge  of  the  post,  and  the  position  is  a  very 
responsible  one ;  nor  is  it  by  any  means  a  sinecure,  for  when 
the  papers  have  nothing  else  to  find  fault  with  they  pick  at 
West  Point." 

"I  should  think  the  social  life  here  would  be  very  pleasant." 

"  It  is,  in  many  respects.  Army  ties  beget  a  sort  of  com- 
radeship which  extends  to  the  officers'  wives.  Frequent  re- 
moval from  one  part  of  the  country  to  another  prevents 
anything  like  vegetating.  The  ladies,  I  am  told,  do  not  be- 
come overmuch  engrossed  in  housekeeping,  and  acquire  some- 
thing of  a  soldier's  knack  of  doing  without  many  things  which 
would  naturally  occupy  their  time  and  thought  if  they  looked 
forward  to  a  settled  life.  Thus  they  have  more  time  for  read- 
ing and  society.  Those  that  I  have  met  have  certainly  been 
very  bright  and  companionable,  and  many  who  in  girlhood  were 
accustomed  to  city  luxury  can  tell  some  strange  stories  of  their 
frontier  life.  There  is  one  army  custom  which  often  bears 
pretty  hard.  Can  you  imagine  yourself  an  officer's  wife?  " 

"  I'll  try,  if  it  will  be  of  help  to  you." 

"Then  suppose  you  were  nicely  settled  in  one  of  those 
houses,  your  furniture  arranged,  carpets  down,  etc.  Some 


SLEIGHING  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS.  63 

morning  you  learn  that  an  officer  outranking  your  husband  has 
been  ordered  here  on  duty.  His  first  step  may  be  to  take  pos- 
session of  your  house.  Quarters  are  assigned  in  accordance 
with  rank,  and  you  would  be  compelled  to  gather  up  your 
household  gods  and  take  them  to  some  smaller  dwelling.  Then 
your  husband  —  how  droll  the  word  sounds! — could  compel 
some  other  officer,  whom  he  outranked,  to  move.  It  would 
seem  that  the  thing  might  go  on  indefinitely,  and  the  com- 
ing of  a  new  officer  produce  a  regular  ist  of  May  state  of 
affairs." 

"  I  perceive  that  you  are  slyly  providing  an  antidote  against 
the  cadet  fever.  What  large  building  is  this?" 

"  The  cadet  barracks.  There  are  over  two  hundred  young 
fellows  in  the  building.  They  have  to  study,  I  can  tell  you, 
nor  can  they  slip  through  here  as  some  of  us  did  at  college. 
All  must  abide  the  remorseless  examinations,  and  many  drop 
out.  There  goes  a  squad  to  the  riding  hall.  Would  you  like 
to  see  the  drill  and  sabre  practice?" 

Amy  assenting,  they  soon  reached  the  balcony  overlooking 
the  arena,  and  spent  an  amused  half-hour.  The  horses  were 
rather  gay,  and  some  were  vicious,  while  the  young  girl's  eyes 
seemed  to  have  an  inspiriting  effect  upon  the  riders.  Alto- 
gether the  scene  was  a  lively  one,  and  at  times  exciting.  Burt 
then  drove  southward  almost  to  Fort  Montgomery,  and  return- 
ing skirted  the  West  Point  plain  by  the  river  road,  pointing  out 
objects  of  interest  at  almost  every  turn,  and  especially  calling 
the  attention  of  his  companion  to  old  Fort  Putnam,  which  he 
assured  her  should  be  the  scene  of  a  family  picnic  on  some 
bright  summer  day.  Amy's  wonder  and  delight  scarcely  knew 
bounds  when  from  the  north  side  of  the  plain  she  saw  for  the 
first  time  the  wonderful  gorge  through  which  the  river  flows 
southward  from  Newburgh  Bay  —  Mount  Taurus  and  Breakneck 
on  one  side,  and  Cro'  Nest  and  Storm  King  on  the  other. 
With  a  deep  sigh  of  content  she  said, 

"  I'm  grateful  that  my  home  is  in  such  a  region  as  this." 


64  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  I'm  grateful  too,"  the  young  fellow  replied,  looking  at  her 
and  not  at  the  scenery. 

But  she  was  too  pre-occupied  to  give  him  much  attention, 
and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  Thunder's  fleet  steps  carried 
them  through  what  seemed  a  realm  of  enchantment,  and  they 
were  at  home.  "  Burt,"  she  said,  warmly,  "  I  never  had  such 
a  drive  before.  I  have  enjoyed  every  moment." 

"  Ditto,  ditto,"  he  cried,  merrily,  as  the  horse  dashed  off 
with  him  towards  the  barn. 


A    WINTER   THUNDER-STORM.  65 


CHAPTER   X. 

A   WINTER   THUNDER-STORM. 

EVEN  before  the  return  of  Burtis  and  Amy  the  sun  had 
been  obscured  by  a  fast-thickening  haze,  and  while  the 
family  was  at  dinner  the  wind  began  to  moan  and  sigh  around 
the  house  in  a  way  that  foretold  a  storm. 

"  I  fear  we  shall  lose  our  sleighing,"  old  Mr.  Clifford  re- 
marked, "  for  all  the  indications  now  point  to  a  warm  rain." 

His  prediction  was  correct.  Great  masses  of  vapor  soon 
came  pouring  over  Storm  King,  and  the  sky  grew  blacker  every 
moment.  The  wind  blew  in  strong,  fitful  gusts,  and  yet  the  air 
was  almost  sultry.  By  four  o'clock  the  rain  began  to  dash  with 
almost  the  violence  of  a  summer  shower  against  the  window- 
panes  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford's  sitting-room,  and  it  grew  so 
dark  that  Amy  could  scarcely  see  to  read  the  paper  to  the  ^>ld 
gentleman.  Suddenly  she  was  startled  by  a  flash,  and  she 
looked  up  inquiringly  for  an  explanation. 

"  You  did  not  expect  to  see  a  thunder-storm  almost  in  mid- 
winter?" said  Mr.  Clifford,  with  a  smile.  "This  unusual 
sultriness  is  producing  unseasonable  results." 

"Is  not  a  thunder-storm  at  this  season  very  rare  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes ;  and  yet  some  of  the  sharpest  lightning  I  have  ever 
seen  has  occurred  in  winter." 

A  heavy  rumble  in  the  southwest  was  now  heard,  and  the 
interval  between  the  flash  and  the  report  indicated  that  the 
storm  centre  was  still  distant.  "  I  would  advise  you  to  go  up 
to  Maggie's  room,"  resumed  Mr.  Clifford,  "  for  from  her  south 


66  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

and  west  windows  you  may  witness  a  scene  that  you  will  not 
soon  forget.  You  are  not  afraid,  are  you?  " 

"  No,  not  unless  there  is  danger,"  she  replied,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  have  never  been  struck  by  lightning,"  the  old  man  re- 
marked, with  a  smile,  "and  I  have  passed  through  many 
storms.  Come,  I'll  go  with  you.  I  never  tire  of  watching  the 
effects  down  among  the  mountains." 

They  found  Mrs.  Leonard  placidly  sewing,  with  Johnnie  and 
Ned  playing  about  the  room.  "  You,  evidently,  are  not  afraid," 
said  Amy. 

"Oh  no  !  "  she  replied.  "  I  have  more  faith  in  the  presence 
of  little  children  than  in  the  protection  of  lightning-rods.  Yes, 
you  may  come  in,"  she  said  to  Webb,  who  stood  at  the  door. 
"  I  suppose  you  think  my  sense  of  security  has  a  very  unscien- 
tific basis?" 

"  There  are  certain  phases  of  credulity  that  I  would  not  dis- 
turb for  the  world,"  he  answered ;  "  and  who  knows  but  you 
are  right?  What's  more,  your  faith  is  infectious;  for,  whatever 
reason  might  tell  me,  I  should  still  feel  safer  in  a  wild  storm 
with  the  present  company  around  me.  Don't  you  think  it  odd, 
Amy,  that  what  we  may  term  natural  feeling  gets  the  better  of 
the  logic  of  the  head  ?  If  that  approaching  storm  should  pass 
directly  over  us,  with  thickly  flying  bolts,  would  you  not  feel 
safer  here?  " 

"Yes." 

Webb  laughed  in  his  low,  peculiar  way,  and  murmured, 
"  What  children  an  accurate  scientist  would  call  us  !  " 

"  In  respect  to  some  things  I  never  wish  to  grow  up,"  she 
replied. 

"  I  believe  I  can  echo  that  wish.  The  outlook  is  growing 
fine,  isn't  it?  " 

The  whole  sky,  which  in  the  morning  had  smiled  so  brightly, 
in  undimmed  sunshine,  was  now  black  with  clouds.  These 
hung  so  low  that  the  house  seemed  the  centre  of  a  narrow  and 
almost  opaque  horizon.  The  room  soon  darkened  with  the 


A    //'AV/ViA'    THUNDER-STORM.  6? 

gloom  of  twilight,  and  the  faces  of  the  inmates  faded  into 
shadowy  outlines.  The  mountains,  half  wrapped  in  vapor, 
loomed  vast  and  indefinite  in  the  obscurity.  Every  moment 
the  storm  grew  nearer,  and  its  centre  was  marked  by  an  omi- 
nous blackness  which  the  momentary  flashes  left  all  the  more 
intense.  The  young  girl  grew  deeply  absorbed  in  the  scene, 
and  to  Webb  the  strong,  pure  profile  of  her  awed  face,  as  the 
increasingly  vivid  flashes  revealed  it,  was  far  more  attractive 
than  the  landscape  without,  which  was  passing  with  swift  alter- 
nations from  ghastly  gloom  to  even  more  ghastly  pallor.  He 
looked  at  her ;  the  rest  looked  at  the  storm,  the  children 
gathering  like  chickens  under  the  mother's  wing. 

At  last  there  came  a  flash  that  startled  them  all.  The  moun- 
tains leaped  out  of  the  darkness  like  great  sheeted  spectres,  and 
though  seen  but  a  second,  they  made  so  strong  an  impression 
that  they  seemed  to  have  left  their  solid  bases  and  to  be  ap- 
proaching in  the  gloom.  Then  came  a  magnificent  peal  that 
swept  across  the  whole  southern  arch  of  the  sky.  The  rever- 
berations among  the  hills  were  deep,  long,  and  grand,  and  the 
fainter  echoes  had  not  died  away  before  there  was  another 
flash  —  another  thunderous  report,  which,  though  less  loud 
than  the  one  that  preceded  it,  maintained  the  symphony  with 
scarcely  diminished  grandeur. 

"  This  is  our  Highland  music,  Amy,"  Webb  remarked,  as  soon 
as  he  could  be  heard.  "  It  has  begun  early  this  season,  but  you 
will  hear  much  of  it  before  the  year  is  out." 

"  It  is  rather  too  sublime  for  my  taste,"  replied  the  young 
girl,  shrinking  closer  to  Mr.  Clifford's  side. 

"  You  are  safe,  my  child,"  said  the  old  man,  encircling  her 
with  his  arm. 

"  Let  me  also  re-assure  you  in  my  prosaic  way,"  Webb  con- 
tinued. "There,  do  you  not  observe  that  though  this  last  flash 
seemed  scarcely  less  vivid,  the  report  followed  more  tardily,  in- 
dicating that  the  storm  centre  is  already  well  to  the  south  and 
east  o'f  us?  The  next  explosion  will  take  place  over  the  moun- 


68 


NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


tains  beyond  the  river.    You  may  now  watch  the  scene  in  secu- 
rity, for  the  heavenly  artillery  is  pointed  away  from  you." 

"  Thank  you.  I  must  admit  that  your  prose  is  both  re-assuring 
and  inspiring.  How  one  appreciates  shelter  and  home  on  such 
a  night  as  this  !  Hear  the  rain  splash  against  the  window  ! 


/INTER   THUNDER-STORM. 


Every  moment  the  air  seems  filled  with  innumerable  gems  as  the 
intense  light  pierces  them.  Think  of  being  out  alone  on  the 
river,  or  up  there  among  the  hills,  while  Nature  is  in  such  an 
awful  mood  !  —  the  snow,  the  slush,  everything  dripping,  the 
rain  rushing  down  like  a  cataract,  and  thunder-bolts  playing 
over  one's  head.  In  contrast,  look  around  this  home-like  room. 


A    WINTER   THUNDER-STORM.  69 

Dear  old  father's  serene  face  "  —  for  Mr.  Clifford  had  already 
taught  her  to  call  him  father  —  "  makes  the  Divine  Fatherhood 
seem  more  real.  Innocent  little  Ned  here  does  indeed  seem  a 
better  protection  than  a  lightning-rod,  while  Johnnie,  putting 
her  doll  to  sleep  in  the  corner,  is  almost  absolute  assurance  of 
safety.  Your  science  is  all  very  well,  Webb,  but  the  heart  de- 
mands something  as  well  as  the  head.  Oh,  I  wish  all  the  world 
had  such  shelter  as  I  have  to-night !  " 

It  was  not  often  that  Amy  spoke  so  freely  and  impulsively. 
Like  many  with  delicate  organizations,  she  was  excited  by  the 
electrical  condition  of  the  air.  The  pallor  of  awe  had  given 
place  to  a  joyous  flush,  and  her  eyes  were  brilliant. 

"  Sister  Amy,"  said  Webb,  as  they  went  down  to  supper,  "  you 
must  be  careful  of  yourself,  and  others  must  be  careful  of  you, 
for  you  have  not  much  vis  inertia.  Some  outside  influences 
might  touch  you,  as  I  would  touch  your  piano,  and  make  sad 
discord." 

"  Should  I  feel  very  guilty  because  I  have  not  more  of  that 
substantial  quality  which  can  only  find  adequate  expression  in 
Latin?"  she  asked,  with  a  humorous  glance. 

"  Oh  no  !  At  least  not  in  my  opinion.  I  much  prefer  a 
woman  in  whom  the  spirit  is  pre-eminent  over  the  clay.  We 
are  all  made  of  dust,  you  know,  and  we  men,  I  fear,  often  smack 
of  the  soil  too  strongly  ;  therefore  we  are  best  pleased  with 
contrasts.  Moreover,  our  country  life  will  brace  you  without 
blunting  your  nature.  I  should  be  sorry  for  you,  though,  if  you 
were  friendless,  and  had  to  face  the  world  alone." 

"  That  can  scarcely  happen  now,"  she  said,  with  a  grateful 
glance. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  evening  they  all  became  ab- 
sorbed in  a  story,  which  Webb  read  aloud.  At  last  Mr,  Clifford 
rose,  drew  aside  the  curtains,  and  looked  out.  "  Come  here, 
Amy,"  he  said.  "  Look  where  the  storm  thundered  a  few  hours 
since  !  " 

The  sky  was  cloudlcjs,  the  winds  were  hushed,  the   stars 


70  XATCRE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

shining,  and  the  mountains  stood  out  gray  and  serene  in  the 
light  of  the  rising  moon. 

"  See,  my  child,  the  storm  has  passed  utterly  away,  and  every- 
thing speaks  of  peace  and  rest.  In  my  long  life  I  have  had 
experiences  which  at  the  time  seemed  as  dark  and  threatening 
as  the  storm  that  awed  you  in  the  early  evening,  but  they  passed 
also,  and  a  quiet  like  that  which  reigns  without  followed.  Put 
the  lesson  away  in  your  heart,  my  dear ;  but  may  it  be  long 
before  you  have  occasion  for  its  use  !  Good-night." 


XATCRE   L'XDER  GLASS.  71 


CHAPTER  XL 

NATURE   UNDER   GLASS. 

'T^HE  next  morning  Amy  asked  Mrs.  Clifford  to  initiate  her 
±_  more  fully  into  the  mysteries  of  her  flowers,  promising 
under  her  direction  to  assume  their  care  in  part.  The  old  lady 
welcomed  her  assistance  cordially,  and  said,  "  You  could  not 
take  your  lesson  on  a  more  auspicious  occasion,  for  Webb  has 
promised  to  aid  me  in  giving  my  pets  a  bath  to-day,  and  he 
can  explain  many  things  better  than  I  can." 

Webb  certainly  did  not  appear  averse  to  the  arrangement,  and 
all  three  were  soon  busy  in  the  flower-room.  "  You  see,"  re- 
sumed Mrs.  Clifford,  "  I  use  the  old-fashioned  yellow  pots.  I 
long  ago  gave  up  all  the  glazed,  ornamental  affairs  with  which 
novices  are  tempted,  learning  from  experience  that  they  are  a 
delusion  and  a  snare.  Webb  has  since  made  it  clear  to  me  that 
the  roots  need  a  circulation  of  air  and  a  free  exhalation  of 
moisture  as  truly  as  the  leaves,  and  that  since  glazed  pots  do 
not  permit  this,  they  should  never  be  employed.  After  all, 
there  is  nothing  neater  than  these  common  yellow  porous  pots. 
I  always  select  the  yellowest  ones,  for  they  are  the  most  porous. 
Those  that  are  red  are  hard-baked,  and  are  almost  as  bad  as 
the  glazed  abominations,  which  once  cost  me  some  of  my 
choice  favorites." 

"  I  agree  with  you.  The  glazed  pots  are  too  artificial  to  be 
associated  with  flowers.  They  suggest  veneer,  and  I  don't  like 
veneer,"  Amy  replied.  Then  she  asked  Webb  :  "  Are  you  ready 
for  a  fire  of  questions  ?  Any  one  with  your  ability  should  be 
able  to  talk  and  work  at  the  same  time." 


72  #ATtr&£'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  did  not  require  that  little  diplomatic  pat  on  the 
back." 

"  I'll  be  as  direct  and  severe  as  an  inquisitor,  then.  Why  do 
you  syringe  and  wash  the  foliage  of  the  plants?  Why  will  not 
simple  watering  of  the  earth  in  the  pots  answer?" 

"  We  wash  the  foliage  in  order  that  the  plants  may  breathe 
and  digest  their  food." 

"  How  lucid  !  "  said  Amy,  with  laughing  irony.  "  Then," 
she  added,  "  please  take  nothing  for  granted  except  my  igno- 
rance in  these  matters.  I  don't  know  anything  about  plants 
except  in  the  most  general  way." 

"  Give  me  time,  and  I  think  I  can  make  some  things  clear. 
A  plant  breathes  as  truly  as  you  do,  only  unlike  yourself  it  has 
indefinite  thousands  of  mouths.  There  is  one  leaf  on  which 
there  are  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  They  are  called 
stomafa,  or  breathing- pores,  and  are  on  both  sides  of  the  leaf 
in  most  plants,  but  usually  are  in  far  greater  abundance  on  the 
lower  side.  The  plant  draws  its  food  from  the  air  and  soil  — 
from  the  latter  in  liquid  form  —  and  this  substance  must  be 
concentrated  and  assimilated.  These  little  pores  introduce  the 
vital  atmosphere  through  the  air-passages  of  the  plant,  which 
correspond  in  a  certain  sense  to  the  throat  and  lungs  of  an  ani- 
mal. You  would  be  sadly  off  if  you  couldn't  breathe ;  these 
plants  would  fare  no  better.  Therefore  we  must  do  artificially 
what  the  rain  does  out-of-doors  —  wash  away  the  accumulated 
dust,  so  that  respiration  may  be  unimpeded.  Moreover,  these 
little  pores,  which  are  shaped  like  the  semi-elliptical  springs  of 
a  carriage,  are  self-acting  valves.  A  plant  exhales  a  great  deal 
of  moisture  in  invisible  vapor.  A  sunflower  has  been  known  to 
give  off  three  pounds  of  water  in  twenty-four  rTours.  This  does 
no  harm,  unless  the  moisture  escapes  faster  than  it  rises  from 
the  roots,  in  which  case  the  plant  wilts,  and  may  even  die.  In 
such  emergencies  these  little  stomata,  or  mouths,  shut  up  partly 
or  completely,  and  so  do  much  to  check  the  exhalation.  When 
moisture  is  given  to  the  roots,  these  mouths  open  again,  and  if 


NATURE   UNDER  GLASS.  73 

our  eyes  were  fine  enough  we  should  see  the  vapor  passing 
out." 

"  I  never  appreciated  the  fact  before  that  plants  are  so  thor- 
oughly alive." 

"  Indeed,  they  are  alive,  and  therefore  they  need  the  intelli- 
gent care  required  by  all  living  creatures  which  we  have  re- 
moved from  their  natural  conditions.  Nature  takes  care  of  her 
children  when  they  are  where  she  placed  them.  In  a  case  like 
this,  wherein  we  are  preserving  plants  that  need  summer  warmth 
through  a  winter  cold,  we  must  learn  to  supply  her  place,  and 
as  far  as  possible  adopt  her  methods.  It  is  just  because  multi- 
tudes do  not  understand  her  ways  that  so  many  house  plants 
are  in  a  half-dying  condition." 

"  Now,  Amy,  I  will  teach  you  how  to  water  the  pots,"  Mrs. 
Clifford  began.  "  The  water,  you  see,  has  been  standing  in  the 
flower-room  all  night,  so  as  to  raise  its  temperature.  That  drawn 
directly  from  the  well  would  be  much  too  cold,  and  even  as  it  is 
I  shall  add  some  warm  water  to  take  the  chill  off.  The  roots 
are  very  sensitive  to  a  sudden  chill  from  too  cold  water.  No, 
don't  pour  it  into  the  pots  from  that  pitcher.  The  rain  does 
not  fall  so,  and,  as  Webb  says,  we  must  imitate  nature.  This 
watering-pot  with  a  fine  rose  will  enable  you  to  sprinkle  them 
slowly,  and  the  soil  can  absorb  the  moisture  naturally  and 
equally.  Most  plants  need  water  much  as  we  take  our  food, 
regularly,  often,  and  not  too  much  at  a  time.  Let  this  surface 
soil  in  the  pots  be  your  guide.  It  should  never  be  perfectly 
dry,  and  still  less  should  it  be  sodden  with  moisture  ;  nor  should 
moisture  ever  stand  in  the  saucers  under  the  pots,  unless  the 
plants  are  semi-aquatic,  like  this  calla-lily.  You  will  gradually 
learn  to  treat  each  plant  or  family  of  plants  according  to  its 
nature.  The  amount  of  water  which  that  calla  requires  would 
kill  this  heath,  and  the  quantity  needed  by  the  heath  would  be 
the  death  of  that  cactus  over  there." 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  cried  Amy,  "  if  I  were  left  alone  in  the  care  of 
your  flower-room,  I  should  out-Herod  Herod  in  the  slaughter 
of  the  innocents." 


74  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

"  You  will  not  be  left  alone,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find 
how  quickly  the  pretty  mystery  of  life  and  growth  will  begin  to 
reveal  itself  to  you." 

As  the  days  passed,  Amy  became  more  and  more  absorbed 
in  the  genial  family  life  of  the  Cliffords.  She  especially  at- 
tached herself  to  the  old  people,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford 
were  fast  learning  that  their  kindness  to  the  orphan  was  des- 
tined to  receive  an  exceeding  rich  reward.  Her  young  eyes 
supplemented  theirs,  which  were  fast  growing  dim  ;  and  even 
platitudes  read  in  her  sweet  girlish  voice  seemed  to  acquire  point 
and  interest.  She  soon  learned  to  glean  from  the  papers  and 
periodicals  that  which  each  cared  for,  and  to  skip  the  rest.  She 
discovered  in  the  library  a  well-written  book  on  travel  in  the 
tropics,  and  soon  had  them  absorbed  in  its  pages,  the  descrip- 
tions being  much  enhanced  in  interest  by  contrast  with  the 
winter  landscape  outside.  Mrs.  Clifford  had  several  volumes 
on  the  culture  of  flowers,  and  under  her  guidance  and  that  of 
Webb  she  began  to  prepare  for  the  practical  out-door  work  of 
spring  with  great  zest.  In  the  meantime  she  was  assiduous  in 
the  care  of  the  house  plants,  and  read  all  she  could  find  in  regard 
to  the  species  and  varieties  represented  in  the  little  flower-room. 
It  became  a  source  of  genuine  amusement  to  start  with  a  famil- 
iar house  plant  and  trace  out  all  its  botanical  relatives,  with 
their  exceedingly  varied  character  and  yet  essential  consanguin- 
ity ;  and  she  drew  others,  even  Alf  and  little  Johnnie,  into  this 
unhackneyed  pursuit  of  knowledge. 

"  These  plant  families,"  she  said  one  day,  "  are  as  curiously 
diverse  as  human  families.  Group  them  together  and  you  can 
see  plainly  that  they  belong  to  one  another,  and  yet  they  differ 
so  widely." 

"  As  widely  as  Webb  and  I,"  put  in  Burt. 

"  Thanks  for  so  apt  an  illustration." 

"  Burt  is  what  you  would  call  a  rampant  grower,  running 
more  to  wood  and  foliage  than  anything  else,"  Leonard  re- 
marked. 


NATURE   UNDER  GLASS.  75 

"  I  didn't  say  that,"  said  Amy.  "  Moreover,  I  learned  from 
my  reading  that  many  of  the  strong-growing  plants  become  in 
maturity  the  most  productive  of  flowers  or  fruit." 

"  How  young  I  must  seem  to  you  !  "  Burt  remarked. 

"  Well,  don't  be  discouraged.  It's  a  fault  that  will  mend 
every  day,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  that  was  so  arch  and  genial 
that  he  mentally  assured  himself  that  he  never  would  be  dis- 
heartened in  his  growing  purpose  to  make  Amy  more  than  a 
sister. 


76  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  MOUNTAINEER'S  HOVEL. 

ONE  winter  noon  Leonard  returned  from  his  superintend- 
ence of  the  wood-cutting  in  the  mountains.  At  the  din- 
ner-table he  remarked  :  "  I  have  heard  to-day  that  the  Lumley 
family  are  in  great  destitution,  as  usual.  It  is  useless  to  help 
them,  and  yet  one  cannot  sit  down  to  a  dinner  like  this  in  com- 
fort while  even  the  Lumleys  are  hungry." 

"  Hunger  is  their  one  good  trait,"  said  Webb.  "  Under  its 
incentive  they  contribute  the  smallest  amount  possible  to  the 
world's  work." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind,"  resumed  Leonard,  "  if  Lumley  and  his 
wife  were  pinched  sharply.  Indeed,,  it  would  give  me  solid 
satisfaction  had  I  the  power  to  make  those  people  work  steadily 
for  a  year,  although  they  would  regard  it  as  the  worst  species  of 
cruelty.  They  have  a  child,  however,  I  am  told,  and  for  its 
sake  I  must  go  and  see  after  them.  Come  with  me,  Amy,  and 
I  promise  that  you  will  be  quite  contented  when  you  retur-n 
home." 

It  was  rather  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  busy  Leonard 
appeared  at  the  door  in  his  strong  one-horse  sleigh  with  its 
movable  seat,  and  Amy  found  that  he  had  provided  an  ample 
store  of  vegetables,  flour,  etc.  She  started  upon  the  expedition 
with  genuine  zest,  to  which  every  mile  of  progress  added. 

The  clouded  sky  permitted  only  a  cold  gray  light,  in  which 
everything  stood  out  with  wonderful  distinctness.  Even  the 
dried  weeds  with  their  shrivelled  seed-vessels  were  sharply  de- 


A   MOUNTAINEERS  HOVEL.  77 

fined  against  the  snow.  The  beech  leaves  which  still  clung  to 
the  trees  were  bleached  and  white,  but  the  foliage  on  the  lower 
branches  of  the  oaks  was  almost  black  against  the  hillside. 
Not  a  breath  of  air  rustled  them.  At  times  Leonard  would 
stop  his  horse,  and  when  the  jingle  of  the  sleigh-bells  ceased 
the  silence  was  profound.  Every  vestige  of  life  had  disappeared 
in  the  still  woods,  or  was  hidden  by  the  snow. 

"  How  lonely  and  dreary  it  all  looks  !  "  said  Amy,  with  a 
sigh. 

"  That  is  why  I  like  to  look  at  a  scene  like  this,"  Leonard 
replied.  "  When  I  get  home  I  see  it  all  again  —  all  its  cold 
desolation  —  and  it  makes  Maggie's  room,  with  her  and  the 
children  around  me,  seem  like  heaven." 

But  oh,  the  contrast  to  Maggie's  room  that  Amy  looked  upon 
after  a  ride  over  a  wood-road  so  rough  that  even  the  deep  snow 
could  not  relieve  its  rugged  inequalities  !  A  dim  glow  of  fire- 
light shone  through  the  frosted  window-panes  of  a  miserable 
dwelling,  as  they  emerged  in  the  twilight  from  the  narrow  track 
in  the  growing  timber.  In  response  to  a  rap  on  the  door,  a 
gruff,  thick  voice  said,  "  Come  in." 

Leonard,  with  a  heavy  basket  on  his  arm,  entered,  followed 
closely  by  Amy,  who,  in  her  surprise,  looked  with  undisguised 
wonder  at  the  scene  before  her.  Never  had  she  even  imagined 
such  a  home.  Indeed,  it  seemed  like  profanation  of  the  word 
to  call  the  bare,  uncleanly  room  by  that  sweetest  of  English 
words.  It  contained  not  a  home-like  feature.  Her  eyes  were 
not  resting  on  decent  poverty,  but  upon  uncouth,  repulsive 
want ;  and  this  awful  impoverishment  was  not  seen  in  the  few 
articles  of  cheap,  dilapidated  furniture  so  clearly  as  in  the  dull, 
sodden  faces  of  the  man  and  woman  who  kennelled  there.  No 
trace  of  manhood  or  womanhood  was  visible  —  and  no  animal 
is  so  repulsive  as  a  man  or  woman  imbruted. 

The  man  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and  said  :  "  Evenin',  Mr. 
Clifford.  Will  yer  take  a  cheer?  " 

The  woman  had  not  the  grace  or  the  power  to  acknowledge 


7 8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

their  presence,  but  after  staring  stolidly  for  a  moment  or  two  at 
her  visitors  through  her  dishevelled  hair,  turned  and  cowered 
over  the  hearth  again,  her  elfish  locks  falling  forward  and  hiding 
her  face. 

The  wretched  smoky  fire  they  maintained  was  the  final 
triumph  and  revelation  of  their  utter  shiftlessness.  With  square 
miles  of  woodland  all  about  them,  they  had  prepared  no  billets 
of  suitable  size.  The  man  had  merely  cut  down  two  small 
trees,  lopped  off  their  branches,  and  dragged  them  into  the 
room.  Their  butt-ends  were  placed  together  on  the  hearth, 
whence  the  logs  stretched  like  the  legs  of  a  compass  to  the  two 
farther  corners  of  the  room.  Amy,  in  the  uncertain  light,  had 
nearly  stumbled  over  one  of  them.  As  the  logs  burned  away 
they  were  shoved  together  on  the  hearth  from  time  to  time,  the 
woman  mechanically  throwing  on  dry  sticks  from  a  pile  near 
her  when  the  green  wood  ceased  to  blaze.  Both  man  and 
woman  were  partially  intoxicated,  and  the  latter  was  so  stupe- 
fied as  to  be  indifferent  to  the  presence  of  strangers.  While 
Leonard  was  seeking  to  obtain  from  the  man  some  intelligible 
account  of  their  condition,  and  bringing  in  his  gifts,  Amy  gazed 
around,  with  her  fair  young  face  full  of  horror  and  disgust. 
Then  her  attention  was  arrested  by  a  feeble  cry  from  a  cradle 
in  a  dusky  corner  beyond  the  woman,  and  to  the  .girl's  heart  it 
was  indeed  a  cry  of  distress,  all  the  more  pathetic  because  of 
the  child's  helplessness,  and  unconsciousness  of  the  wretched 
life  to  which  it  seemed  inevitably  destined. 

She  stepped  to  the  cradle's  side,  and  saw  a  pallid  little  crea- 
ture, puny  and  feeble  from  neglect.  Its  mother  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  its  wailing,  and  when  Amy  asked  if  she  might  take  it 
up,  the  woman's  mumbled  reply  was  unintelligible. 

After  hesitating  a  moment  Amy  lifted  the  child,  and  found  it 
scarcely  more  than  a  little  skeleton.  Sitting  down  on  the  only 
chair  in  the  room,  which  the  man  had  vacated — the  woman 
crouched  on  an  inverted  box  —  Amy  said,  "  Leonard,  please 
bring  me  the  milk  we  brought." 


A   MOUNTAifrEER^S  HOVEL.  79 

After  it  had  been  warmed  a  little  the  child  drank  it  with 
avidity.  Leonard  stood  in  the  background  and  sadly  shook  his 
head  as  he  watched  the  scene,  the  fire-light  flickering  on  Amy's 
pure  profile  and  tear-dimmed  eye  as  she  watched  the  starved 
babe  taking  from  her  hand  the  food  that  the  brutish  mother  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth  was  incapable  of  giving  it. 

He  never  forgot  that  picture  —  the  girl's  face  beautiful  with 
a  divine  compassion,  the  mother's  large  sensual  features  half 
hidden  by  her  snaky  locks  as  she  leaned  stupidly  over  the  fire, 
the  dusky  flickering  shadows  that  filled  the  room,  in  which  the 
mountaineer's  head  loomed  like  that  of  a  shaggy  beast.  Even 
his  rude  nature  was  impressed,  and  he  exclaimed, 

"  Gad  !  the  likes  of  that  was  'never  seen  in  these  parts 
afore  ! " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  cried  Amy,  turning  to  him,  "  can  yon  not  see  that 
your  little  child  is  hungry?" 

"  Well, the  woman,  she's  drunk,  and  s'pose  I  be  too, 

somewhat." 

"  Come,  Lumley,  be  more  civil,"  said  Leonard.  "  The  young 
lady  isn't  used  to  such  talk." 

"  Oh,  it  all  seems  so  dreadful ! "  exclaimed  Amy,  her  tears 
falling  faster. 

The  man  drew  a  step  or  two  nearer,  and  looked  at  her  won- 
deringly ;  then,  stretching  out  his  great  grimy  hand,  he  said : 
"  I  s'pose  you  think  I  hain't  no  feelings,  miss,  but  I  have.  I'll 
take  keer  on  the  young  un,  and  I  won't  tech  another  drop 
to-night.  Thar's  my  hand  on  it." 

To  Leonard's  surprise,  Amy  took  the  hand,  as  she  said,  "  I 
believe  you  will  keep  your  word." 

"  That's  right,  Lumley,"  added  Leonard,  heartily.  "  Now 
you  are  acting  like  a  man.  I've  brought  you  a  fair  lot  of 
things,  but  they  are  in  trade.  In  exchange  for  them  I  want  the 
jug  of  liquor  you  brought  up  from  the  village  to-day." 

The  man  hesitated,  and  looked  at  his  wife. 

"  Come,  Lumley,  you've  begun  well.     Put  temptation  out  of 


80  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

the  way.  For  your  wife  and  baby's  sake,  as  well  as  your  own, 
give  me  the  jug.  You  mean  well,  but  you  know  your  failing." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Clifford,"  said  the  man,  going  to  a  cupboard,  "  I 
guess  it'll  be  safer.  But  you  don't  want  the  darned  stuff,"  and 
he  opened  the  door  and  dashed  the  vessel  against  an  adjacent 
bowlder. 

"  That's  better  still.  Now  brace  up,  get  your  axe  and  cut 
some  wood  in  a  civilized  way.  We're  going  to  have  a  cold 
night.  You  can't  keep  up  a  fire  with  this  shiftless  contrivance," 
indicating  with  his  foot  one  of  the  logs  lying  along  the  floor. 
"  As  soon  as  you  get  things  straightened  up  here  a  little  we'll 
give  you  work.  The  young  lady  has  found  out  that  you  have 
the  making  of  a  man  in  you  yet.  If  she'll  take  your  word  for 
your  conduct  to-night,  she  also  will  for  the  future." 

"Yes,"  added  Amy,  "if  you  will  try  to  do  better,  we  will  all 
try  to  help  you.  I  shall  come  and  see  the  baby  again.  Oh, 
Leonard,"  she  added,  as  she  placed  the  child  in  its  cradle, 
"  can't  we  leave  one  of  the  blankets  from  the  sleigh  ?  See,  the 
baby  has  scarcely  any  covering." 

"  But  you  may  be  cold." 

"  No  ;  I  am  dressed  warmly..  Oh  !  see  !  see  !  the  little  dar- 
ling is  smiling  up  at  me  !  Leonard,  please  do.  I'd  rather  be 
cold." 

"  Bless  your  good  heart,  miss  !  "  said  the  man,  more  touched 
than  ever.  "  Never  had  any  sich  wisitors  afore." 

When  Amy  had  tucked  the  child  in  warm  he  followed  her 
and  Leonard  to  the  sleigh  and  said,  "  Good-by,  miss ;  I'm 
a-going  to  work  like  a  man,  and  there's  my  hand  on  it  agin." 

Going  to  work  was  Lumley's  loftiest  idea  of  reformation,  and 
many  others  would  find  it  a  very  good  beginning.  As  they 
drove  away  they  heard  the  ring  of  his  axe,  and  it  had  a  hopeful 
sound. 

For  a  time  Leonard  was  closely  occupied  with  the  intricacies 
of  the  road,  and  when  at  last  he  turned  and  looked  at  Amy, 
she  was  crying. 


A   MOUNTAINEER'S  HOVEL.  8 1 

"  There,  don't  take  it  so  to  heart,"  he  said,  soothingly. 

"  Oh,  Leonard,  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  before.  That 
poor  little  baby's  smile  went  right  to  my  heart.  And  to  think 
of  its  awful  mother  !  " 

They  paused  on  an  eminence  and  looked  back  on  the  dim 
outline  of  the  hovel.  Then  Leonard  drew  her  close  to  him  as 
he  said,  "  Don't  cry  any  more.  -You  have  acted  like  a  true 
little  woman  — just  as  Maggie  would  have  done — and  good 
may  come  of  it,  although  they'll  always  be  Lumleys.  As  Webb 
says,  it  would  require  several  generations  to  bring  them  up. 
Haven't  I  given  you  a  good  lesson  in  contentment?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  did  not  need  one.  I'm  glad  I  went,  however,  but 
feel  that  I  cannot  rest  until  there  is  a  real  change  for  the  better." 

"Well,  who  knows?     You  may  bring  it  about." 

The  supper-table  was  waiting  for  them  when  they  returned. 
The  gleam  of  the  crystal  and  silver,  the  ruddy  glow  from  the 
open  stove,  the  more  genial  light  of  every  eye  that  turned  to 
welcome  them,  formed  a  delightful  counter-picture  to  the  one 
they  had  just  looked  upon,  and  Leonard  beamed  with  immeas- 
urable satisfaction.  To  Amy  the  contrast  was  almost  too  sharp, 
and  she  could  not  dismiss  from  her  thoughts  the  miserable 
dwelling  in  the  mountains. 

Leonard's  buoyant,  genial  nature  had  been  impressed,  but 
not  depressed,  by  the  scene  he  had  witnessed.  Modes  of  life 
in  the  mountains  were  familiar  to  him,  and  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  done  a  kind  deed  from  which  further  good  might 
result,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  speak  freely  of  the  Lumleys,  and 
the  story  of  their  experience  was  soon  drawn  from  him.  Im- 
pulsive, warm-hearted  Burt  was  outspoken  in  his  admiration  of 
Amy's  part  in  the  visit  of  charity,  but  Webb's  intent  look  drew 
her  eyes  to  him,  and  with  a  strange  little  thrill  at  her  heart  she 
saw  that  he  had  interpreted  her  motives  and  feelings. 

"  I  will  take  you  there  again,  Amy,"  was  all  he  said,  but  for 
some  reason  she  dwelt  upon  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  more 
than  upon  all  the  uttered  words  of  the  others. 


82  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  joined  her  in  the  sitting-room,  which, 
for  the  moment,  was  deserted  by  the  others,  and  she  spoke  of 
the  wintry  gloom  of  the  mountains,  and  how  Leonard  was  fond 
of  making  the  forbidding  aspect  a  foil  for  Maggie's  room. 
Webb  smiled  as  he  replied  : 

"  That  is  just  like  Len.  Maggie's  room  is  the  centre  of  his 
world,  and  he  sees  all  things  in  their  relation  to  it.  I  also  was 
out  this  afternoon,  and  I  took  my  gun,  although  I  did  not  see 
a  living  thing  to  fire  at.  But  the  '  still,  cold  woods,'  as  you 
term  them,  were  filled  with  a  beauty  and  suggestiveness  of 
which  I  was  never  conscious  before.  I  remembered  how  dif- 
ferent they  had  appeared  in  past  summers  and  autumns,  and  I 
saw  how  ready  they  were  for  the  marvellous  changes  that  will 
take  place  in  a  few  short  weeks.  The  hillsides  seemed  like 
canvases  on  which  an  artist  had  drawn  his  few  strong  outlines 
which  foretold  the  beauty  to  come  so  perfectly  that  the  imagi- 
nation supplied  it." 

"  Why,  Webb,  I  did  not  know  you  had  so  much  imagination." 

"  Nor  did  I,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  am  discovering  traces  of 
it.  I  have  always  loved  the  mountains,  because  so  used  to 
them  —  they  were  a  part  of  my  life  and  surroundings  —  but 
never  before  this  winter  have  I  realized  they  were  so  beautiful. 
When  I  found  that  you  were  going  up  among  the  hills,  I 
thought  I  would  go  also,  and  then  we  could  compare  our 
impressions." 

"  It  was  all  too  dreary  for  me,"  said  the  young  girl,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  It  reminded  me  of  the  time  when  my  old  life  ceased, 
and  this  new  life  had  not  begun.  There  were  weeks  wherein 
my  heart  was  oppressed  with  a  cold,  heavy  despondency,  when 
I  just  wished  to  be  quiet,  and  try  not  to  think  at  all,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  nature  looked  to-day  just  as  I  felt." 

"  I  think  it  very  sad  that  you  have  learned  to  interpret  nature 
in  this  way  so  early  in  life.  And  yet  I  think  I  can  understand 
you  and  your  analogy." 

"  I  think  you  can,  Webb,"  she  said,  simply. 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  83 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ALMOST   A   TRAGEDY. 

'T^HE  quiet  sequence  of  daily  life  was  soon  interrupted  by 
\_  circumstances  that  nearly  ended  in  a  tragedy.  One 
morning  Burt  saw  an  eagle  sailing  over  the  mountains.  The 
snow  had  been  greatly  wasted,  and  in  most  places  was  so 
strongly  incrusted  that  it  would  bear  a  man's  weight.  There- 
fore the  conditions  seemed  favorable  for  the  eagle  hunt  .which 
he  had  promised  himself;  and  having  told  his  father  that  he 
would  look  after  the  wood  teams  and  men  on  his  way,  he  took 
his  rifle  and  started. 

The  morning  was  not  cold,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  disturbed 
the  sharp,  still  outlines  of  the  leafless  trees.  The  sky  was 
slightly  veiled  with  a  thin  scud  of  clouds.  As  the  day  advanced 
these  increased  in  density  and  darkened  in  hue. 

Webb  remarked  at  dinner  that  the  atmosphere  over  the  Bea- 
con Hills  in  the  northeast  was  growing  singularly  obscure  and 
dense  in  its  appearance,  and  that  he  believed  a  heavy  storm 
was  coming. 

"I  am  sorry  Burt  has  gone  to  the  mountains  to-day,"  said 
Mrs.  Clifford,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  about  Burt, '  was  Webb's  response  ;  "  there 
is  no  more  danger  of  his  being  snowed  in  than  of  a  fox's." 

Before  the  meal  was  over,  the  wind,  snow-laden,  was  moan- 
ing about  the  house.  With  every  hour  the  gale  increased  in 
intensity.  Early  in  the  afternoon  the  men  with  the  two  teams 
drove  to  the  barn.  Amy  could  just  see  their  white,  obscure 


84  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

figures  through  the  blinding  snow.  Even  old  Mr.  Clifford  went 
out  to  question  them.  "  Yes,  Mr.  Burt  come  up  in  de  mawnin' 
an'  stirred  us  all  up  right  smart,  slashed  down  a  tree  hisself  to 
show  a  new  gawky  hand  dat's  cuttin'  by  de  cord  how  to  'am 
his  salt ;  den  he  put  out  wid  his  rafle  in  a  bee-line  towards  de 
riber.  Dat's  de  last  we  seed  ob  him ;  "  and  Abram  went 
stolidly  on  to  unhitch  and  care  for  his  horses. 

Mr.  Clifford  and  his  two  elder  sons  returned  to  the  house 
with  traces  of  anxiety  on  their  faces,  while  Mrs.  Clifford  was  so 
worried  that,  supported  by  Amy,  she  made  an  unusual  effort, 
and  met  them  at  the  door. 

"Don't  be  disturbed,  mother,"  said  Webb,  confidently. 
"  Burt  and  I  have  often  been  caught  in  snow-storms,  but  never 
had  any  difficulty  in  finding  our  way.  Burt  will  soon  appear, 
or,  if  he  doesn't,  it  will  be  because  he  has  stopped  to  recount 
to  Dr.  Marvin  the  results  of  his  eagle  hunt." 

Indeed,  they  all  tried  to  re-assure  her,  but,  with  woman's 
quick  instinct  where  her  affections  are  concerned,  she  read 
what  was  passing  in  their  minds.  Her  husband  led  her  back 
to  her  couch,  where  she  lay  with  her  large  dark  eyes  full  of 
trouble,  while  her  lips  often  moved  in  prayer.  The  thought 
of  her  youngest  and  darling  son  far  off  and  alone  among 
those  cloud-capped  and  storm-beaten  mountains  was  terrible 
to  her. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  still  the  absent  youth  did  not  re- 
turn. Leonard,  his  father,  and  Amy,  often  went  to  the  hall 
window  and  looked  out.  The  storm  so  enhanced  the  early 
gloom  of  the  winter  afternoon  that  the  out-buildings,  although 
so  near,  loomed  out  only  as  shadows.  The  wind  was  growing 
almost  fierce  in  its  violence.  Webb  had  so  long  kept  up  his 
pretence  of  reading  that  Amy  began  in  her  thoughts  to  resent 
his  seeming  indifference  as  cold-blooded.  At  last  he  laid  down 
his  book,  and  went  quietly  away.  She  followed  him,  for  it 
seemed  to  her  that  something  ought  to  be  done,  and  that  he 
was  the  one  to  dp  it.  She  found  him  in  an  upper  chamber, 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  85 

standing  by  an  open  window  that  faced  the  mountains.  Joining 
him,  she  was  appalled  by  the  roar  of  the  wind  as  it  swept  down 
from  the  wooded  heights. 

"Oh,  Webb,"  she  exclaimed — he  started  at  her  words  and 
presence,  and  quickly  closed  the  window  —  "ought  not  some- 
thing to  be  done  ?  The  bare  thought  that  Burt  is  lost  in  this 
awful  gloom  fills  me  with  horror.  The  sound  of  that  wind  was 
like  the  roar  of  the  ocean  in  a  storm  we  had.  How  can  he 
see  in  such  blinding  snow  ?  How  could  he  breast  this  gale  if 
he  were  weary?" 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  looking  with  contracted  brows  at 
the  gloomy  scene.  At  last  he  began,  as  if  re-assuring  himself 
as  well  as  the  agitated  girl  at  his  side  : 

"  Burt,  you  must  remember,  has  been  brought  up  in  this 
region.  He  knows  the  mountains  well,  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  Webb,  you  take  this  matter  too  coolly,"  interrupted 
Amy,  impulsively.  "  Something  tells  me  that  Burt  is  in  dan- 
•  ger ;  "  and  in  her  deep  solicitude  she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
She  noticed  that  it  trembled,  and  that  he  still  bent  the  same 
contracted  brow  towards  the  region  where  his  brother  must  be 
if  her  fears  were  true.  Then  he  seemed  to  come  to  a  decision. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  I  take  it  coolly.  Perhaps  it's  well 
that  I  can.  You  may  be  right,  and  there  may  be  need  of 
prompt,  wise  action.  If  so,  a  man  will  need  the  full  control  of 
all  his  wits.  I  will  not,  however,  give  up  my  hope  —  my  almost 
belief —  that  he  is  at  Dr.  Marvin's.  I  shall  satisfy  myself  at 
once.  Try  not  to  show  your  fears  to  father  and  mother,  that's 
a  brave  girl." 

He  was  speaking  hurriedly  now  as  they  were  descending  the 
stairs.  He  found  his  father  in  the  hall',  much  disturbed,  and 
querying  with  his  eldest  son  as  to  the  advisability  of  taking 
some  steps  immediately.  Leonard,  although  evidently  growing 
anxious,  still  urged  that  Burt,  with  his  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence as  a  sportsman,  would  not  permit  himself  to  be  caught  in 
such  a  storm. 


86  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  He  surely  must  be  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Marvin  or  some 
other  neighbor  on  the  mountain  road." 

"  I  also  think  he  is  at  the  doctor's,  but  shall  see,"  Webb 
remarked,  quietly,  as  he  drew  on  his  overcoat. 

"  I  don't  think  he's  there  ;  I  don't  think  he  is  at  any  neigh- 
bor's house,"  cried  Mrs.  Clifford,  who,  to  the  surprise  of  all, 
had  made  her  way  to  the  hall  unaided.  "  Burt  is  thoughtless 
about  little  things,  but  he  would  not  leave  me  in  suspense  on 
such  a  night  as  this." 

"  Mother,  I  promise  you  Burt  shall  soon  be  here  safe  and 
sound ; "  and  Webb  in  his  shaggy  coat  and  furs  went  hastily 
out,  followed  by  Leonard.  A  few  moments  later  the  dusky 
outlines  of  a  man  and  a  galloping  horse  appeared  to  Amy  for  a 
moment,  and  then  vanished  towards  the  road. 

It  was  some  time  before  Leonard  returned,  for  Webb  had 
said  :  "  If  Burt  is  not  at  the  doctor's,  we  must  go  and  look  for 
him.  Had  you  not  better  have  the  strongest  wood-sled  ready? 
You  will  know  what  to  do." 

Having  admitted  the  possibility  of  danger,  Leonard  acted 
promptly.  With  Abram's  help  a  pair  of  stout  horses  were  soon 
attached  to  the  sled,  which  was  stored  with  blankets,  shovels  to 
clear  away  drifts,  etc. 

Webb  soon  came  galloping  back,  followed  a  few  moments 
later  by  the  doctor,  but  there  were  no  tidings  of  Burt. 

Amy  expected  that  Mrs.  Clifford  would  become  deeply  agi- 
tated, but  was  mistaken.  She  lay  on  her  couch  with  closed 
eyes,  but  her  lips  moved  almost  continuously.  She  had  gone 
to  Him  whose  throne  is  beyond  all  storms. 

Mr.  Clifford  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from  joining  his 
sons  in  the  search.  The  old  habit  of  resolute  action  returned 
upon  him,  but  Webb  settled  the  question  by  saying,  in  a  tone 
almost  stern  in  its  authority,  "  Father,  you  must  remain  with 
mother." 

Amy  had  no  further  reason  to  complain  that  Webb  took  the 
matter  too  coolly.  He  was  all  action,  but  his  movements  were 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  87 

as  deft  as  they  were  quick.  In  the  basket  which  Maggie  had 
furnished  with  brandy  and  food  he  placed  the  conch-shell  used 
to  summon  Abram  to  his  meals.  Then,  taking  down  a  double- 
barrelled  breech-loading  gun,  he  filled  his  pocket  with  cart- 
ridges. 

"What  is  that  for?"  Amy  asked,  with  white  lips,  for,  as  he 
seemed  the  natural  leader,  she  hovered  near  him. 

"  If  we  do  not  find  him  at  one  of  the  houses  well  up  on  the 
mountain,  as  I  hope  we  shall,  I  shall  fire  repeatedly  in  our 
search.  The  reports  would  be  heard  farther  than  any  other 
sound,  and  he  might  answer  with  his  rifle." 

Leonard  now  entered  with  the  doctor,  who  said,  "  All  ready ; 
we  have  stored  the  sledge  with  abundant  material  for  fires,  and 
if  Burt  has  met  with  an  accident,  I  am  prepared  to  do  all  that 
can  be  done  under  the  circumstances." 

"  All  ready,"  responded  Webb,  again  putting  on  his  coat  and 
fur  cap. 

Amy  sprang  to  his  side  and  tied  the  cap  securely  down  with 
her  scarf. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  whispered,  "  for  saying  that  you  took 
Burt's  danger  coolly.  I  understand  you  better  now.  Oh, 
Webb,  be  careful !  Think  of  yourself  too.  I  now  see  that  you 
are  thinking  of  Burt  only." 

"  Of  you  also,  littie  sister,  and  I  shall  be  the  stronger  for 
such  thoughts.  Don't  give  way  to  fear.  We  shall  find  Burt, 
and  all  come  home  hungry  as  wolves.  Good-by." 

"  May  the  blessing  of  Him  who  came  to  seek  and  save  the 
lost  go  with  you  ! "  said  the  aged  father,  tremulously. 

A  moment  later  they  dashed  away,  followed  by  Burt's  hound 
and  the  watch-dog,  and  the  darkness  and  storm  hid  them  from 
sight. 

Oh,  the  heavy  cross  of  watching  and  waiting  !  Many  claim 
that  woman  is  not  the  equal  of  man  because  she  must  watch 
and  wait  in  so  many  of  the  dread  emergencies  of  life,  forgetting 
that  it  is  infinitely  easier  to  act,  to  face  the  wildest  storm  that 


88  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

sweeps  the  sky  or  the  deadliest  hail  crashing  from  cannons' 
mouths,  than  to  sit  down  in  sickening  suspense  waiting  for  the 
blow  to  fall.  The  man's  duty  requires  chiefly  the  courage 
which  he  shares  with  the  greater  part  of  the  brute  creation,  and 
only  as  he  adds  woman's  patience,  fortitude,  and  endurance 
does  he  become  heroic.  Nothing  but  his  faith  in  God  and  his 
life-long  habit  of  submission  to  his  will  kept  Mr.  Clifford  from 
chafing  like  a  caged  lion  in  his  enforced  inaction.  Mrs.  Clifford, 
her  mother's  heart  yearning  after  her  youngest  and  darling  boy 
with  an  infinite  tenderness,  alone  was  calm. 

Amy's  young  heart  was  oppressed  by  an  unspeakable  dread. 
It  was  partly  due  to  the  fear  and  foreboding  of  a  child  to  whom ' 
the  mountains  were  a  Siberia-like  wilderness  in  their  awful  ob- 
scurity, and  still  more  the  result  of  knowledge  of  the  sorrow 
that  death  involves.  The  bare  possibility  that  the  light-hearted, 
ever-active  Burt,  who  sometimes  perplexed  her  with  more  than 
fraternal  devotion,  was  lying  white  and  still  beneath  the  drifting 
snow,  or  even  wandering  helplessly  in  the  blinding  gale,  was  so 
terrible  that  it  blanched  her  cheek,  and  made  her  lips  tremble 
when  she  tried  to  speak.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  a  little 
brusque  to  him  at  times,  and  now  she  reproached  herself  in  re- 
morseful compunction,  and  with  the  abandonment  of  a  child  to 
her  present  overwrought  condition,  felt  that  she  could  never 
refuse  him  anything  should  his  blue  eyes  turn  pleadingly  to  her 
again.  At  first  she  did  not  give  way,  but  was  sustained,  like 
Maggie,  by  the  bustle  of  preparation  for  the  return,  and  in  an- 
swering the  innumerable  questions  of  Johnnie  and  Alf.  Webb's 
assurance  to  his  mother  that  he  would  bring  Burt  back  safe  and 
sound  was  her  chief  hope.  From  the  first  moment  of  greeting 
he  had  inspired  her  with  a  confidence  that  had  steadily  in- 
creased, and  from  the  time  that  he  had  admitted  the  possibility 
of  this  awful  emergency  he  had  acted  so  resolutely  and  wisely 
as  to  convince  her  that  all  that  man  could  do  would  be  done. 
She  did  not  think  of  explaining  to  herself  why  her  hope  cen- 
tred more  in  him  than  in  all  the  others  engaged  in  the  search. 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  89 

or  why  she  was  more  solicitous  about  him  in  the  hardships  and 
perils  that  the  expedition  involved,  and  yet  Webb  shared  her 
thoughts  almost  equally  with  Burt.  If  the  latter  were  reached, 
Webb  would  be  the  rescuer,  but  her  sickening  dread  was  that 
in  the  black  night  and  howling  storm  he  could  not  be  found. 

As  the  rescuing  party  pushed  their  way  up  the  mountain  with 
difficulty  they  became  more  and  more  exposed  to  the  northeast 
gale,  and  felt  with  increasing  dread  how  great  was  the  peril  to 
which  Burt  must  be  exposed  had  he  not  found  refuge  in  some 
of  the  dwellings  nearer  to  the  scene  of  his  sport.  The  roar  of 
the  gale  up  the  rugged  defile  was  perfectly  terrific,  and  the 
snow  caught  up  from  the  overhanging  ledges  was  often  driven 
into  their  faces  with  blinding  force.  They  could  do  little  better 
than  give  the  horses  their  heads,  and  the  poor  brutes  floundered 
slowly  through  the  drifts.  The  snow  had  deepened  incredibly 
fast,  and  the  fierce  wind  piled  it  up  so  'fantastically  in  every 
sheltered  place  that  they  were  often  in  danger  of  upsetting,  and 
more  than  once  had  to  spring  out  with  their  shovels.  At  last, 
after  an  hour  of  toil,  they  reached  the  first  summit,  but  no  tid- 
ings could  be  obtained  of  Burt  from  the  people  residing  in  the 
vicinity.  They  therefore  pushed  on  towards  the  gloomy  wastes 
beyond,  and  before  long  left  behind  them  the  last  dwelling  and 
the  last  chance  that  he  had  found  shelter  before  night  set  in. 
Two  stalwart  men  had  joined  them  in  the  search,  however,  and 
formed  a  welcome  re-inforcement.  With  terrible  forebodings 
they  pressed  forward,  Webb  firing  his  breech-loader  rapidly, 
and  the  rest  making  what  noise  they  could,  but  the  gale  swept 
away  these  feeble  sounds,  and  merged  them  almost  instantly  in 
the  roar  of  the  tempest.  It  was  their  natural  belief  that  in  at- 
tempting to  reach  home  Burt  would  first  try  to  gain  the  West 
Point  road  that  crossed  the  mountains,  for  here  would  be  a 
pathway  that  the  snow  could  not  obliterate,  and  also  his  best 
chance  of  meeting  a  rescuing  party.  It  was  therefore  their 
purpose  to  push  on  until  the  southern  slope  of  Cro'  Nest  was 
reached,  but  they  became  so  chilled  and  despondent  over 


90  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

their  seemingly  impossible  task  that  they  stopped  on  an  emi- 
nence near  a  rank  of  wood.  They  knew  that  the  outlook  com- 
manded a  wide  view  to  the  south  and  north,  and  that  if  Burt 
were  cowering  somewhere  in  that  region,  it  would  be  a  good 
point  from  \vhich  to  attract  his  attention. 

"  I  move  that  we  make  a  fire  here,"  said  Leonard.  "  Abram 
is  half-frozen,  we  are  all  chilled  to  the  bone,  and  the  horses 
need  rest.  I  think,  too,  that  a  h're  can  be  seen  farther  than  any 
sound  can  be  heard." 

The  instinct  o'f  self-preservation  caused  them  all  to  accede, 
and,  moreover,  they  must  keep  up  themselves  in  order  to  ac- 
complish anything.  They  soon  had  a  roaring  blaze  under  the 
partial  shield  of  a  rock,  while  at  the  same  time  the  flames  rose 
so  high  as  to  be  seen  on  both  sides  of  the  ridge  as  far  as  the 
storm  permitted.  The  horses  were  sheltered  as  well  as  possible, 
and  heavily  blanketed.  As  the  men  thawed  out  their  benumbed 
forms,  Webb  exclaimed,  "  Great  God  !  what  chance  has  Burt 
in  such  a  storm  ?  and  what  chance  have  we  of  finding  him  ?  " 

The  others  shook  their  heads  gloomily,  but  answered  nothing. 

"  It  will  kill  mother,"  he  muttered. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  disguising  the  truth,"  said  the  doctor, 
slowly.  "  If  Burt's  alive,  he  must  have  a  fire.  Our  best  chance 
is  to  see  that.  But  how  can  one  see  anything  through  this  swirl 
of  snow,  that  is  almost  as  thick  in  the  air  as  on  the  ground? " 

To  their  great  joy  the  storm  soon  began  to  abate,  and  the 
wind  to  blow  in  gusts.  They  clambered  to  the  highest  point 
near  them,  and  peered  eagerly  for  some  glimmer  of  light ;  but 
only  a  dim,  wild  scene,  that  quickly  shaded  off  into  utter  ob- 
scurity, was  around  them.  The  snow-flakes  were  growing  larger, 
however,  and  were  no  longer  swept  with  a  cutting  slant  into 
their  faces. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  cried  Webb,  "  I  believe  the  gale  is  nearly 
blown  out.  I  shall  follow  this  ridge  towards  the  river  as  far  as 
I  can." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  the  doctor,  promptly. 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  91 

"  No,"  said  Webb  ;  "  it  will  be  your  turn  next.  It  won't  do 
for  us  all  to  get  worn  out  together.  I'll  go  cautiously ;  and 
with  this  ridge  as  guide,  and  the  fire,  I  can't  lose  my  way.  I'll 
take  one  of  the  dogs,  and  fire  my  gun  about  every  ten  minutes. 
If  I  fire  twice  in  succession,  follow  me ;  meanwhile  give  a  blast 
on  the  conch  every  few  moments ; "  and  with  these  words  he 
speedily  disappeared. 

The  doctor  and  Leonard  returned  to  the  fire,  and  watched 
the  great  flakes  fall  hissing  into  the  flames.  Hearing  of  Webb's 
expedition,  the  two  neighbors  who  had  recently  joined  them 
pushed  on  up  the  road,  shouting  and  blowing  the  conch-shell 
as  often  as  they  deemed  it  necessary.  Their  signal  also  was  to 
be  two  blasts  should  they  meet  with  any  success.  Leonard  and 
the  doctor  were  a  corps  de  reserve.  The  wind  soon  ceased 
altogether,  and  a  stillness  that  was  almost  oppressive  took  the 
place  of  the  thunder  of  the  gale.  They  threw  themselves  down 
to  rest,  and  Leonard  observed  with  a  groan  how  soon  his  form 
grew  white.  "  Oh,  doctor,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  anguish, 
"  can  it  be  that  we  shall  never  find  Burt  till  the  snow  melts  ?  " 

"  Do  not  take  so  gloomy  a  view,"  was  the  reply.  "  Burt 
must  have  been  able  to  make  a  fire,  and  now  that  the  wind  has 
ceased  we  can  attract  his  attention." 

Webb's  gun  was  heard  from  time  to  time,  the  sounds  growing 
steadily  fainter.  At  last,  far  away  to  the  east,  came  two  reports 
in  quick  succession.  The  two  men  started  up,  and  with  the  aid 
of  lanterns  followed  Webb's  trail,  Abram  bringing  up  the  rear 
with  an  axe  and  blankets. 

Sometimes  up  to  his  waist  in  snow,  sometimes  springing  from 
rock  to  rock  that  the  wind  had  swept  almost  bare,  Webb  had 
toiled  on  along  the  broken  ridge,  his  face  scratched  and  bleed- 
ing from  the  shaggy,  stunted  trees  that  it  was  too  dark  to  avoid  ; 
but  he  thought  not  of  such  trifles,  and  seemed  endowed  with  a 
strength  ten  times  his  own.  Every  few  moments  he  would  stop, 
listen,  and  peer  about  him  on  every  side.  Finally,  after  a  rather 
long  upward  climb,  he  knew  he  had  reached  a  rock  of  some 


92  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

altitude.  He  again  fired  his  gun.  The  echoes  soon  died  away, 
and  there  was  no  sound  except  the  low  tinkle  of  the  snow- 
flakes  through  the  bushes.  He  was  just  about  to  push  on, 
when,  far  down  to  the  right  and  south  of  him,  he  thought  he 
saw  a  gleam  of  light.  He  looked  long  and  eagerly,  but  in  vain. 
He  passed  over  to  that  side  of  the  ridge,  and  fired  again ;  but 
there  was  no  response  —  nothing  but  the  dim,  ghostly  snow  on 
every  side.  Concluding  that  it  had  been  but  a  trick  of  the 
imagination,  he  was  about  to  give  up  the  hope  that  had  thrilled 
his  heart,  when  feebly  but  unmistakably  a  ray  of  light  shot  up, 
wavered,  and  disappeared.  At  the  same  moment  his  dog  gave 
a  loud  bark,  and  plunged  down  the  ridge.  A  moment  sufficed 
to  give  the  preconcerted  signal,  and  almost  at  the  risk  of  life 
and  limb  Webb  rushed  down  the  precipitous  slope.  He  had 
not  gone  very  far  before  he  heard  a  long,  piteous  howl  that 
chilled  his  very  soul  with  dread.  He  struggled  forward  des- 
perately, and,  turning  the  angle  of  a  rock,  saw  a  dying  fire,  and 
beside  it  a  human  form  merely  outlined  through  the  snow.  As 
the  dog  was  again  raising  one  of  his  ill-omened  howls,  Webb 
stopped  him  savagely,  and  sprang  to  the  prostrate  figure,  whose 
face  was  buried  in  its  arm. 

It  was  Burt.  Webb  placed  a  hand  that  trembled  like  an 
aspen  over  his  brother's  heart,  and  with  a  loud  cry  of  joy  felt 
its  regular  beat.  Burt  had  as  yet  only  succumbed  to  sleep, 
which  in  such  cases  is  fatal  when  no  help  interposes.  Webb 
again  fired  twice  to  guide  the  rescuing  party,  and  then  with 
some  difficulty  caused  Burt  to  swallow  a  little  brandy.  He  next 
began  to  chafe  his  wrists  with  the  spirits,  to  shake  him,  and  to 
shout  in  his  ear.  Slowly  Burt  shook  off  his  fatal  lethargy,  and 
by  the  time  the  rest  of  the  party  reached  him,  was  conscious. 

"  Good  God  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  did  I  go  to  sleep?  I  vowed 
I  would  not  a  hundred  times.  Nor  would  I  if  I  could  have 
moved  around ;  but  I've  sprained  my  ankle,  and  can't  walk." 

With  infinite  difficulty,  but  with  hearts  light  and  grateful,  they 
carried  him  on  an  improvised  stretcher  to  the  sled.  Burt  ex- 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  93 

plained  that  he  had  been  Jured  farther  and  farther  away  by  a 
large  eagle  that  had  kept  just  out  of  range,  and  in  his  excite- 
ment he  had  at  first  paid  no  attention  to  the  storm.  Finally 
its  increasing  fury  and  the  memory  of  his  distance  from  home 
had  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  he  had  struck  out  for  the 
West  Point  road.  Still  he  had  no  fears  or  misgivings,  but  while 
climbing  the  slope  on  which  he  was  found,  he  slipped,  fell,  and 
in  trying  to  save  himself  came  down  with  his  whole  weight  on 
a  loose  stone,  and  sprained  his  left  ankle.  He  tried  to  crawl 
and  hobble  forward,  and  for  a  time  gave  way  to  something  like 
panic.  He  soon  found  that  he  was  using  up  his  strength,  and 
that  he  would  perish  with  the  cold  before  he  could  make  half  a 
mile.  He  then  crawled  under  the  sheltering  ledge  where  Webb 
discovered  him,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  good  woodcraft  soon  had 
a  fire,  for  it  was  his  fortune  to  have  some  matches.  A  dead 
and  partially  decayed  tree,  a  knife  strong  enough  to  cut  the 
saplings  when  bent  over,  supplied  him  with  fuel.  Finally  the 
drowsiness  which  long  exposure  to  cold  induces  began  to 
oppress  him.  He  fought  against  it  desperately  for  a  time,  but, 
as  events  proved,  was  overpowered. 

"  God  bless  you,  Webb  !  "  he  said,  concluding  his  story. 
"  You  have  saved  my  life." 

"  We  have  all  had  a  hand  at  it,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  I 
couldn't  have  done  anything  alone." 

Wrapped  up  beyond  the  possibility  of  further  danger  from 
the  cold,  and  roused  from  time  to  time,  Burt  was  carried  home- 
ward as  fast  as  the  drifts  permitted,  the  horses'  bells  now  chim- 
ing musically  in  the  still  air. 

As  hour  after  hour  passed  and  there  was  nothing  left  to  do, 
Amy  took  Johnnie  on  her  lap,  and  they  rocked  back  and  forth 
and  cried  together.  Soon  the  heavy  lids  closed  over  the  little 
girl's  eyes,  and  shut  off  the  tears.  Alf  had  already  coiled  up 
on  a  lounge  and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep.  Maggie  took  up  the 
little  girl,  laid  her  down  beside  him,  and  covered  them  well 


94  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

from  the  draughts  that  the  furious  gale  drove  through  every 
crack  and  cranny  of  the  old  house,  glad  that  they  had  found  a 
happy  oblivion.  Amy  then  crept  to  a  footstool  at  Mrs.  Clifford's 
side  —  the  place  where  she  had  so  often  seen  the  youth  whom 
the  storm  she  now  almost  began  to  believe  had  swept  from 
them  forever  —  and  she  bowed  her  head  on  the  old  lady's  thin 
hand  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"  Don't  give  way  so,  darling,"  said  the  mother,  as  her  other 
hand  stroked  the  brown  hair.  "  God  is  greater  than  the  storm. 
We  have  prayed,  and  we  now  feel  that  he  will  do  what  is  best." 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  your  faith  !  " 

"  It  will  come  in  time  —  when  long  years  have  taught  you 
his  goodness." 

She  slowly  wiped  her  eyes,  and  stole  a  glance  at  Mr.  Clifford. 
His  earlier  half-desperate  restlessness  had  passed  away,  and  he 
sat  quietly  in  his  chair  gazing  into  the  fire,  occasionally  wiping 
a  tear  from  his  eyes,  and  again  looking  upward  with  an  expres- 
sion of  sublime  submission.  Soon,  as  if  conscious  of  her  won- 
dering observation,  he  said,  "  Come  to  me,  Amy/' 

She  stood  beside  him,  and  he  drew  her  close  as  he  continued  : 

"  My  child,  one  of  the  hardest  lessons  we  can  learn  in  this 
world  is  to  say, '  Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be  done.'  I  have  lived 
fourscore  years,  and  yet  I  could  not  say  it  at  first ;  but  now  " 
(with  a  calm  glance  heavenward)  "  I  can  say,  '  My  Father,  thy 
will  be  done.'  If  he  takes  Burt,  he  has  given  us  you ;  "  and 
he  kissed  her  so  tenderly  that  she  bowed  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  said,  brokenly, 

"  You  are  my  father  in  very  truth." 

"  Yes,"  was  his  quiet  response. 

Then  she  stole  back  to  her  seat.  There  was  a  Presence  in 
the  room  that  filled  her  with  awe,  and  yet  banished  her  former 
overwhelming  dread  and  grief. 

They  watched  and  waited ;  there  was  no  sound  in  the  room 
except  the  soft  crackle  of  the  fire,  and  Amy  thought  deeply  on 
the  noble  example  before  her  of  calm,  trustful  waiting.  At  last 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  95 

she  became  conscious  that  the  house  was  growing  strangely 
still ;  the  faint  tick  of  the  great  clock  on  the  landing  of  the 
stairs  struck  her  ear  ;  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  wind  had  ceased. 
Bewildered,  she  rose  softly  and  went  to  Maggie's  room,  and 
found  that  the  tired  mother  in  watching  over  her  children  had 
fallen  asleep  in  her  chair.  She  lifted  a  curtain,  and  could 
scarcely  believe  her  eyes  when  she  saw  that  the  trees  that  had 
been  writhing  and  moaning  in  the  gale  now  stood  white  and 
spectral  as  the  lamp-light  fell  upon  them.  When  had  the  wind 
ceased?  It  seemed  as  if  the  calm  that  had  fallen  upon  her 
spirit  had  extended  to  nature ;  that  the  storm  had  hushed  its 
rude  clamor  even  while  it  continued.  From  the  window  she 
watched  the  white  flakes  flutter  through  the  light  she  knew  not 
how  long ;  the  old  clock  chimed  out  midnight,  and  then,  faint 
and  far  away,  she  thought  she  heard  the  sleigh-bells.  With 
swift,  silent  tread,  she  rushed  to  a  side  door  and  threw  it  open. 
Yes,  clear  and  distinct  she  now  heard  them  on  the  mountain 
road.  With  a  low  cry  she  returned  and  wakened  Maggie,  then 
flew  to  the  old  people,  and,  with  a  voice  that  she  tried  in  vain 
to  steady,  said,  "  They  are  coming." 

Mr.  Clifford  started  up,  and  was  about  to  rush  from  the 
room,  but  paused  a  moment  irresolutely,  then  returned,  sat 
down  by  his  wife,  and  put  his  arm  around  her.  He  was  true  to 
his  first  love.  The  invalid  had  grown  faint  and  white,  but  his 
touch  and  presence  were  the  cordials  she  needed. 

Amy  fled  back  to  the  side  door,  and  the  sled  soon  ap- 
peared. There  was  no  light  at  this  entrance,  and  she  was 
unobserved.  She  saw  them  begin  to  lift  some  one  out,  and 
she  dashed  through  an  intervening  drift  nearly  to  her  waist. 
Webb  felt  a  hand  close  on  his  arm  with  a  grip  that  he  long 
remembered. 

"Burt?"  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  agonized  inquiry. 

"  Heigh-ho,  Amy,"  said  the  much-muffled  figure  that  they 
were  taking  from  the  sled ;  "  I'm  all  right." 

In  strong  re-action,  the  girl  would  have  fallen,  ha :    lot  Webb 


96  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY.      • 

supported  her.  He  felt  that  she  trembled  and  clung  almost 
helplessly  to  him. 

"Why,  Amy,"  he  said,  gently,  "you  will  take  your  death  out 
here  in  the  cold  and  snow ;  "  and  leaving  the  others  to  care  for 
Burt,  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  in. 

"Thank  God,  he's  safe,"  she  murmured.  "Oh,  we  have 
.waited  so  long  !  There,  I'm  better  now,"  she  said,  hastily,  and 
with  a  swift  color  coming  into  her  pale  cheeks,  as  they  reached 
the  door. 

"  You  must  not  expose  yourself  so  again,  sister  Amy." 

"  I  thought —  I  thought  when  you  began  to  lift  Burt  out —  " 
But  she  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"  He  has  only  sprained  his  ankle.     Go  tell  mother." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  joy  like  that  which  fills  loving  hearts 
when  the  lost  is  found.  It  is  so  pure  and  exalted  that  it  is  one 
of  the  ecstasies  of  heaven.  It  would  be  hard  to  describe  how 
the  old  house  waked  up  with  its  sudden  accession  of  life  —  life 
that  was  so  warm  and  vivid  against  the  background  of  the 
shadow  of  death.  There  were  murmured  thanksgivings  as  feet 
hurried  to  and  fro,  and  an  opening  fire  of  questions,  which 
Maggie  checked  by  saying  : 

"  Possess  your  souls  in  patience.  Burt's  safe  —  that's  enough 
to  know  until  he  is  cared  for,  and  my  half-famished  husband 
and  the  rest  get  their  supper.  Pretty  soon  we  can  all  sit  down, 
for  I  want  a  chance  to  hear  too." 

"  And  no  one  has  a  better  right,  Maggie,"  said  her  husband, 
chafing  his  hands  over  the  fire.  "  After  what  we've,  seen  to- 
night, this  place  is  the  very  abode  of  comfort,  and  you  its  pre- 
siding genius ;  "  and  Leonard  beamed  and  thawed  until  the  air 
grew  tropical  around  him. 

At  Mrs.  Clifford's  request  (for  it  was  felt  that  it  was  not  best 
to  cross  the  invalid),  Burt,  in  the  rocking-chair  wherein  he  had 
been  placed,  was  carried  to  her  room,  and  received  a  greeting 
from  his  parents  that  brought  tears  to  the  young  fellow's  eyes. 
Dr.  Marvin  soon  did  all  within  his  power  at  that  stage  for  the 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY.  97 

sprained  ankle  and  frost-bitten  fingers,  the  mother  advising^ 
and  feeling  that  she  was  still  caring  for  her  boy  as  she  had 
done  a  dozen  years  before.  Then  Burt  was  carried  back  to  the 
dining-room,  where  all  were  soon  gathered.  The  table  groaned 
under  Maggie's  bountiful  provision,  and  lamp-light  and  fire- 
light revealed  a  group  upon  which  fell  the  richer  light  of  a 
great  joy. 

Burt  was  ravenously  hungry,  but  the  doctor  put  him  on  lim- 
ited diet,  remarking,  "You  can  soon  make  up  for  lost  time." 
He  and  Leonard,  however,  made  such  havoc  that  Amy  pre- 
tended to  be  aghast ;  but  she  soon  noted  that  Webb  ate  spar- 
ingly, that  his  face  was  not  only  scratched  and  torn,  but  almost 
haggard,  and  that  he  was  unusually  quiet.  The  reasons  were 
soon  apparent.  When  all  were  helped,  and  Maggie  had  a 
chance  to  sit  down,  she  said  : 

"  Now  tell  us  about  it.  We  just- heard  enough  when  you 
first  arrived  to  curdle  our  blood.  How  in  the  world,  Burt,  did 
you  allow  yourself  to  get  caught  in  such  a  storm  ?  " 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  this  confounded  sprain  I  should  have 
come  out  all  right ;  "  and  then  followed  the  details  with  which 
the  reader  is  acquainted,  although  little  could  be  got  out  of 
Webb. 

"  The  upshot  of  it  all  is,"  said  Leonard,  as  he  beamed  upon 
the  party  with  ineffable  content,  "  between  mother's  praying 
and  Webb's  looking,  Burt  is  here,  not  much  the  worse  for  his 
eagle  hunt." 

They  would  not  hear  of  the  doctor's  departure,  and  very 
soon  afterwards  did  Mr.  Clifford  gathered  them  around  the 
family  altar  in  a  thanksgiving  prayer  that  moistened  every 
eye. 

Then  all  prepared  for  the  rest  so  sorely  needed.  As  Webb 
went  to  the  hall  to  hang  up  his  gun,  Amy  saw  that  he  staggered 
in  his  almost  mortal  weariness,  and  she  followed  him. 

"There  are  your  colors,  Amy,"  he  said,  laughingly,  taking 
her  scarf  from  an  inner  pocket.  "  I  wore  it  till  an  envious 


98  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

scrub-oak  tore  it  off.  It  was  of  very  great  help  to  me  —  the 
scarf,  not  the  oak." 

"Webb,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "you  can't  disguise  the  truth 
from  me  by  any  such  light  words.  You  are  half-dead  from  ex- 
haustion. I've  been  watching  you  ever  since  your  return.  You 
are  ill  —  you  have  gone  beyond  your  strength,  and  in  addition 
to  it  all  I  let  you  carry  me  in.  Oh  dear !  I'm  so  worried 
about  you  ! " 

"  It's  wonderfully  nice  to  have  a  little  sister  to  worry  about  a 
fellow." 

"  But  can't  I  do  something  for  you  ?  You've  thought  about 
everybody,  and  no  one  thinks  for  you." 

"  You  have,  and  so  have  the  rest,  as  far  as  there  was  occasion. 
Let  me  tell  you  how  wan  and  weary  you  look.  Oh,  Amy,  our 
home  is  so  much  more  to  us  since  you  came  ! " 

"  What  would  our  home  be  to  us  to-night,  Webb,  were  it  not 
for  you  !  And  I  said  you  took  Burt's  danger  too  coolly.  How 
I  have  reproached  myself  for  those  words  !  God  bless  you, 
Webb  !  you  did  not  resent  them ;  and  you  saved  Burt ;  "  and 
she  impulsively  put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him, 
then  fled  to  her  room. 

The  philosophical  Webb  might  have  had  much  to  think 
about  that  night  had  he  been  in  an  analytical  mood,  for  by 
some  magic  his  sense  of  utter  weariness  was  marvellously  re- 
lieved. With  a  low  laugh,  he  thought, 

"I'd  be  tempted  to  cross  the  mountains  again  for  such  a 
reward." 


HINTS  OF  SPRING,  99 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

HINTS   OF   SPRING. 

WHEN  Amy  awoke  on  the  following  morning  she  was 
almost  dazzled,  so  brilliant  was  the  light  that  flooded  the 
room.  Long,  quiet  sleep  and  the  elasticity  of  youth  had  ban- 
ished all  depression  from  mind  and  body,  and  she  sprang  eagerly 
to  the  window  that  she  might  see  the  effects  of  the  storm,  expect- 
ing to  witness  its  ravages  on  every  side.  Imagine  her  wonder 
and  delight  when,  instead  of  wide-spread  wreck  and  ruin,  a 
scene  of  indescribable  beauty  met  her  eyes  !  The  snow  had 
draped  all  things  in  white.  The  trees  that  had  seemed  so  gaunt 
and  skeleton-like  as  they  writhed  and  moaned  in  the  gale  were 
now  clothed  with  a  beauty  surpassing  that  of  their  summer 
foliage,  for  every  branch,  even  to  the  smallest  twig,  had  been 
incased  in  the  downy  flakes.  The  evergreens  looked  like  old- 
time  gallants  well  powdered  for  a  festival.  The  shrubbery  qf 
the  garden  was  scarcely  more  than  mounds  of  snow.  The 
fences  had  almost  disappeared ;  while  away  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  all  was  sparkling  whiteness.  Nature  was  like  a  bride 
adorned  for  her  nuptials.  Under  the  earlier  influences  of  the 
gale  the  snow  had  drifted  here  and  there,  making  the  undula- 
tions of  her  robe,  and  under  the  cloudless  sun  every  crystal  glit- 
tered, as  if  over  all  had  been  flung  a  profusion  of  diamond  dust. 
Nor  did  she  seem  a  cold,  pallid  bride  without  heart  or  glad- 
ness. Her  breath  was  warm  and  sweet,  and  full  of  an  indefinable 
suggestion  of  spring.  She  seemed  to  stand  radiant  in  maidenly 


100  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

purity  and  loveliness,  watching  in  almost  breathless  expectation 
the  rising  of  the  sun  above  the  eastern  mountains. 

A  happy  group  gathered  at  the  breakfast-table  that  morning. 
Rest  of  mind  and  thankfulness  of  heart  had  conduced  to  re- 
freshing repose,  and  the  brightness  of  the  new  day  was  reflected 
in  every  face.  Burt's  ankle  was  painful,  but  this  was  a  slight 
matter  in  contrast  with  what  might  have  been  his  fate.  He  had 
insisted  on  being  dressed  and  brought  to  the  lounge  in  the 
breakfast-room.  Webb  seemed  wonderfully  restored,  and  Amy 
thought  he  looked  almost  handsome  in  his  unwonted  animation, 
in  spite  of  the  honorable  scars  that  marked  his  face.  Dr.  Mar- 
vin exclaimed,  exultingly, 

"  Miss  Amy,  you  can  begin  the  study  of  ornithology  at  once. 
There  are  bluebirds  all  about  the  house,  and  you  have  no  idea 
what  exquisite  bits  of  color  they  are  against  the  snow,  on  this 
bright  morning.  After  breakfast  you  must  go  out  and  greet 
these  first  arrivals  from  the  South." 

"  Yes,  Amy,"  put  in  Leonard,  laughing,  "  it's  a  lovely  morn- 
ing for  a  stroll.  The  snow  is  only  two  feet  deep,  and  drifted 
in  many  places  higher  than  your  head.  The  '  beautiful  snow  ' 
brings  us  plenty  of  prose  in  the  form  of  back-aching  work  with 
our  shovels." 

"  No  matter,"  said  Webb  ;  "  it  has  also  brought  us  warmth, 
exquisitely  pure  air,  and  a  splendid  covering  for  grass  and  grain 
that  will  be  apt  to  last  well  into  the  spring.  Anything  rather 
than  mud  and  the  alternate  freezing  and  thawing  that  are  as 
provoking  as  a  capricious  friend." 

"  Why,  Webb,  what  a  burst  of  sentiment !  "  said  Burt. 

"Doctor,  the  bluebirds  seem  to  come  like  the  south  wind 
that  Leonard  says  is  blowing  this  morning,"  Mrs.  Clifford  re- 
marked. "  Where  were  they  last  night  ?  and  how  have  they 
reached  us  after  such  a  storm?  " 

"I  imagine  that  those  we  hear  this  morning  have  been  with 
us  all  winter,  or  they  may  have  arrived  before  the  storm.  I 
scarcely  remember  a  winter  when  I  have  not  seen  some  around, 


HINTS  OF  SPRING. 


101 


and  their  instinct  guides   them  where  to  find  shelter.     When 
the  weather  is  very  cold  they  are  comparatively  silent,  but  even 


a  January  thaw  will   make  them   tuneful.    They  are  also  mi- 
grants, and  have  been  coming  northward  for  a  .week  or  two 


102  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

past,  and  this  accounts  for  the  numbers  this  morning.  Poor 
little  things  !  they  must  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it  last  night, 
wherever  they  were." 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  could  make  them  know  how  glad  I'd  be 
to  take  them  in  and  keep  them  warm  every  cold  night !  "  shy 
Johnnie  whispered  to  Maggie. 

"  They  have  a  better  mother  than  even  you  could  be,"  said 
the  doctor,  nodding  at  the  little  girl. 

"Have  all  the  bluebirds  a  mother?"  she  asked,  with  won- 
dering eyes. 

"  Indeed  they  have,  and  all  the  other  birds  also,  and  this 
mother  takes  care  of  them  the  year  round  —  Mother  Nature, 
that's  her  name.  Your  heart  may  be  big  enough,  but  your 
house  would  not  begin  to  hold  all  the  bluebirds,  so  Mother 
Nature  tells  the  greater  part  of  them  to  go  where  it's  warm 
about  the  ist  of  December,  and  she  finds  them  winter  homes 
all  the  way  from  Virginia  to  Florida.  Then  towards  spring  she 
whispers  when  it  is  safe  to  come  back,  and  if  you  want  to  see 
how  she  can  take  care  of  those  that  are  here  even  during  such 
a  storm  as  that  of  last  night,  bundle  up  and  come  out  on  the 
sunny  back  piazza." 

There  all  the  household  soon  after  assembled,  the  men 
armed  with  shovels  to  aid  in  the  path-making  in  which  Abram 
was  already  engaged.  Burt  was  placed  in  a  rocking-chair  by  a 
window  that  he  might  enjoy  the  prospect  also.  A  charming 
winter  outlook  it  was,  brilliant  with  light  and  gemmed  with  in- 
numerable crystals.  To  Amy's  delight,  she  heard  for  the  first 
time  the  soft,  down-like  notes  of  the  bluebird.  At  first  they 
seemed  like  mere  "  wandering  voices  in  the  air,"  sweet,  plain- 
tive, and  delicate  as  the  wind-swayed  anemone.  Then  came  a 
soft  rustle  of  wings,  and  a  bird  darted  downward,  probably 
from  the  eaves,  but  seemingly  it  was  a  bit  of  the  sky  that  had 
taken  form  and  substance.  He  flew  past  her  and  dislodged  a 
miniature  avalanche  from  the  spray  on  which  he  alighted.  The 
little  creature  sat  still  a  moment,  then  lifted  and  stretched  one 


HINTS  OF  SPRING.  103 

wing  by  an  odd  coquettish  movement  while  it  uttered  its  low 
musical  warble. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Amy,  "he  is  almost  the  counterpart  of 
our  robin-redbreast  of  England  !  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin,  "  he  resembles  your  English  red- 
breast closely  both  in  appearance  and  habits,  and  our  New 
England  forefathers  called  him  the  '  blue  robin.'  To  my  taste 
the  bluebird  is  the  superior  of  the  two,  for  what  he  lacks  in 
stronger  and  more  varied  song  he  makes  up  in  softer,  sweeter 
notes.  And  then  he  is  so  beautiful !  You  have  no  blue  birds 
of  any  kind  in  England,  Amy.  It  seems  to  require  our  deeper- 
tinted  skies  to  produce  them.  Ah,  there  comes  his  mate.  You 
can  tell  her  by  the  lighter  blue  of  her  plumage,  and  the  tinge 
of  brown  on  her  head  and  back.  She  is  a  cold,  coy  beauty, 
even  as  a  wife ;  but  how  gallant  is  her  azure-coated  beau  ! 
Flirt  away,  my  little  chap,  and  make  the  most  of  your  courting 
and  honeymoon.  You  will  soon  have  family  cares  enough  to 
discourage  anybody  but  a  bluebird  ;  "  and  the  doctor  looked  at 
his  favorites  with  an  exulting  affection  that  caused  a  general 
laugh. 

"  I  shall  give  our  little  friends  something  better  than  compli- 
ments," said  Mr.  Clifford,  obeying  his  hospitable  instincts,  and 
he  waded  through  the  snow  to  the  sunny  side  of  an  evergreen, 
and  there  cleared  a  space  until  the  ground  was  bare.  Then  he 
scattered  over  this  little  plot  an  abundance  of  bread-crumbs 
and  hay  seed,  and  they  all  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  half 
a  dozen  little  bobbing  heads  at  breakfast.  Johnnie  and  Alf, 
who  on  account  of  the  deep  snow  did  not  go  to  school,  were 
unwearied  in  watching  the  lovely  little  pensioners  on  their 
grandfather's  bounty  —  not  pensioners  either,  for,  as  the  old 
man  said,  "They  pay  their  way  with  notes  that  I  am  always 
glad  to  accept." 

The  work  of  path-making  and  shovelling  snow  from  the 
doors  and  roofs  of  the  out-buildings  went  on  vigorously  all  the 
morning.  Abram  also  attached  the  farm  horses  to  the  heavy 


104  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

snow-plough,  to  which  he  added  his  weight,  and  a  broad,  track- 
like  furrow  was  made  from  the  house  to  the  road,  and  then  for 
a  mile  or  more  each  way  upon  the  street,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
neighbors.  Before  the  day  was  very  far  advanced,  the  south 
wind,  which  had  been  a  scarcely  perceptible  breath,  freshened, 
and  between  the  busy  shovels  and  the  swaying  branches  the  air 
was  full  of  glittering  crystals.  The  bride-like  world  was  throw- 
ing off  her  ornaments  and  preparing  for  the  prose  of  every-day 
life  ;  and  yet  she  did  so  in  a  cheerful,  lightsome  mood.  The 
sunny  eaves  dropped  a  profusion  of  gems  from  the  melting 
snow.  There  was  a  tinkle  of  water  in  the  pipes  leading  to  the 
cistern.  From  the  cackle  in  the  barn-yard  it  appeared  that 
the  hens  had  resolved  on  unwonted  industry,  and  were  receiv- 
ing applause  from  the  oft-crowing  chanticleers.  The  horses, 
led  out  to  drink,  were  in  exuberant  spirits,  and  appeared  to  find 
a  child's  delight  in  kicking  up  the  snow.  The  cows  came 
briskly  from  their  stalls  to  the  space  cleared  for  them,  and  were 
soon  ruminating  in  placid  content.  What  though  the  snow 
covered  the  ground  deeper  than  at  any  time  during  the  winter, 
the  subtile  spirit  of  spring  was  recognized  and  welcomed  not 
only  by  man,  but  also  by  the  lower  creation  ! 

After  putting  Burt  in  a  fair  way  of  recovery,  Dr.  Marvin, 
armed  with  a  shovel  to  burrow  his  way  through  the  heavier 
drifts,  drove  homeward.  Alf  floundered  off  to  his  traps,  and 
returned  exultant  with  two  rabbits.  Amy  was  soon  busy  sketch- 
ing them  previous  to  their  transformation  into  a  pot-pie,  Burt 
looking  on  with  a  deeper  interest  iff  the  artist  than  in  her  art, 
although  he  had  already  learned  that  she  had  not  a  little  skill 
with  her  pencil.  Indeed,  Burt  promised  to  become  quite  rec- 
onciled to  his  part  of  invalid,  in  spite  of  protestations  to  the 
contrary ;  and  his  inclination  to  think  that  Amy's  companion- 
ship would  be  an  antidote  for  every  ill  of  life  was  increasing 
rapidly,  in  accordance  with  his  hasty  temperament,  which  ar- 
rived at  conclusions  long  before  others  had  begun  to  consider 
the  steps  leading  to  them. 


HTNTS  OF  SPAING. 


105 


Amy  was  still  more  a  child  than  a  woman ;  but  a  girl  must 
be  young  indeed  who  does  not  recognize  an  admirer,  especially 
so  transparent  a  one  as  Burt  would  ever  be.  His  ardent  glances 


THE    RABBIT   TRAP, 


and  compliments  both  amused  and  annoyed  her.  From  his 
brothers  she  had  obtained  several  hints  of  his  previous  and 
diversified  gallantries,  and  was  not  at  all  assured  that  those  in 


106  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

the  future  might  not  be  equally  varied.  She  did  not  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  his  homage,  however ;  and  since  she  had  found  it 
so  easy  to  love  him  as  a  brother,  it  did  not  seem  impossible 
that  she  should  learn  to  regard  him  in  another  light,  if  all 
thought  it  best,  and  he  "  would  only  be  sensible  and  understand 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  think  about  such  things  for  years  to 
come."  Thus  it  may  be  seen  that  in  one  respect  her  heart  was 
not  much  more  advanced  than  that  of  little  Johnnie.  She  ex- 
pected to  be  married  some  time  or  other,  and  supposed  it 
might  as  well  be  to  Burt  as  to  another,  if  their  friends  so '  de- 
sired it;  but  she  was  for  putting  off  submission  to  woman's 
natural  lot  as  long  as  possible.  Possessing  much  tact,  she  was 
able  in  a  great  measure  to  repress  the  young  fellow's  demonstra- 
tiveness,  and  maintain  their  brotherly  and  sisterly  relations ; 
but  it  cost  her  effort,  and  sometimes  she  left  his  society  flurried 
and  wearied.  ^With  Webb  she  enjoyed  perfect  rest  and  a  pleas- 
ing content.  He  was  so  quiet  and  strong  that  his  very  presence 
seemed  to  soothe  her  jarring  nerves.  He  appeared  to  under- 
stand her,  to  have  the  power  to  make  much  that  interested  her 
more  interesting,  while  upon  her  little  feminine  mysteries  of 
needle  and  fancy  work  he  looked  with  an  admiring  helplessness, 
as  if  she  were  more  unapproachable  in  her  sphere  than  he  could 
ever  be  in  his,  with  all  his  scientific  facts  and  theories.  Women 
like  this  tribute  to  their  womanly  ways  from  the  sterner  sex. 
Maggie's  wifehood  was  made  happy  by  it,  for  by  a  hundred  little 
things  she  knew  that  the  great,  stalwart  Leonard  would  be  lost 
without  her.  Moreover,  by  his  rescue  of  Burt,  Webb  had  won 
a  higher  place  in  Amy's  esteem.  He  had  shown  the  prompt 
energy  and  courage  which  satisfy  woman's  ideal  of  manhood, 
and  assure  her  of  protection.  Amy  did  not  analyze  her  feelings 
or  consciously  assure  herself  of  all  this.  She  only  felt  that 
Webb  was  restful,  and  would  give  her  a  sense  of  safety,  no 
matter  what  happened. 


NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS.  IO/ 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS. 

SOME  days  after  Burt's  adventure,  Dr.  Marvin  made  his 
professional  call  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Alvord,  Squire  Bart- 
ley,  and  the  minister  also  happened  in,  and  all  were  soon 
chatting  around  Mr.  Clifford's  ruddy  hearth.  The  pastor  of 
this  country  parish  was  a  sensible  man,  who,  if  he  did  not 
electrify  his  flock  of  a  Sunday  morning,  honestly  tried  to  guide 
it  along  safe  paths,  and  led  those  whom  he  asked  to  follow. 
His  power  lay  chiefly  in  the  homes  of  his  people,  where  his 
genial  presence  was  ever  welcomed.  He  did-  not  regard  those 
to  whom  he  ministered  as  so  many  souls  and  subjects  of  theo- 
logical dogma,  but  as  flesh-and-blood  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, with  complex  interests  and  relations ;  and  the  heartiness 
of  his  laugh  over  a  joke,  often  his  own,  and  the  havoc  that  he 
made  in  the  dishes  of  nuts  and  apples,  proved  that  he  had 
plenty  of  good  healthful  blood  himself.  Although  his  hair  was 
touched  with  frost,  and  he  had  never  received  any  degree  ex- 
cept his  simple  A.M.,  although  the  prospect  of  a  metropolitan 
pulpit  had  grown  remote  indeed,  he  seemed  the  picture  of  con- 
tent as  he  pared  his  apple  and  joined  in  the  neighborly  talk. 

Squire  Bartley  had  a  growing  sense  of  shortcoming  in  his 
farming  operations.  Notwithstanding  his  many  acres,  he  felt 
himself  growing  "  land-poor,"  as  country  people  phrase  it.  He 
was  not  a  reader,  and  looked  with  undisguised  suspicion  on 
book-farming.  As  for  the  agricultural  journals,  he  said  "  they 
were  full  of  new-fangled  notions,  and  were  kept  up  by  people 


108  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

who  liked  to  see  their  names  in  print."  Nevertheless,  he  was 
compelled  to  admit  that  the  Cliffords,  who  kept  abreast  of  the 
age,  obtained  better  crops,  and  made  their  business  pay  far 
better  than  he  did,  and  he  was  inclined  to  turn  his  neighborly 
calls  into  thrifty  use  by  questioning  Leonard  and  Webb  con- 
cerning their  methods  and  management.  Therefore  he  re- 
marked to  Leonard  :  "  Do  you  find  that  you  can  keep  your  land 
in  good  condition  by  rotation  of  crops  ?  Folks  say  this  will  do 
it,  but  I  find  some  of  our  upland  is  getting  mighty  thin,  and 
crops  uncertain." 

"  What  is  your  idea  of  rotation,  squire?" 

"  Why,  not  growin'  the  same  crop  too  often  on  the  same 
ground." 

"  That  is  scarcely  my  idea.  For  the  majority  of  soils  the 
following  rotation  has  been  found  most  beneficial :  corn  and 
potatoes,  which  thoroughly  subdue  the  sod  the  first  year ;  root 
crops,  as  far  as  we  grow  them,  and  oats  the  second ;  then  wheat 
or  rye,  seeded  at  the  same  time  with  clover  or  grass  of  some 
kind.  We  always  try  to  plough  our  sod  land  in  the  fall,  for  in 
the  intervening  time  before  planting  the  sod  partially  decays, 
the  land  is  sweetened  and  pulverized  by  the  action  of  frost,  and 
'a  good  many  injurious  insects  are  killed  also.  But  all  rules 
need  modification,  and  we  try  to  study  the  nature  of  our  vari- 
ous soils,  and  treat  them  accordingly." 

"What!  have  a  chemist  prescribe  for 'em  like  a  doctor?" 
sneered  the  squire.  "  Mr.  Walters,  the  rich  city  chap  who 
bought  Roger's  worn-out  farm,  tried  that  to  his  heart's  content, 
and  mine  too.  He  had  a  little  of  the  dirt  of  each  part  of  his 
farm  analyzed,  you  know,  and  then  he  sent  to  New  York  for  his 
phosphates,  his  potashes,  his  muriates,  and  his  compound-super- 
universal  panacea  vegetates,  and  with  all  these  bad-smelling 
mixtures  —  his  barn  was  like  a  big  agricultural  drug-store  —  he 
was  going  to  put  into  his  skinned  land  just  the  elements  lack- 
ing. In  short,  he  gave  his  soil  a  big  dose  of  powders,  and  we 
all  know  the  result.  If  he  had  given  his  farm  a  pinch  of  snuff 


NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS'.  1 09 

better  crops  ought  to  have  been  sneezed.  No  chemicals  and 
land  doctors  for  me,  thank  you.  Beg  pardon,  Marvin  !  no  re- 
flections on  your  calling,  but  doctorin'  land  don't  seem  profit- 
able for  those  who  pay  for  the  medicine." 

They  all  laughed  except  Webb,  who  seemed  nettled,  but  who 
quietly  said,  "  Squire,  will  you  please  tell  us  what  your  house  is 
made  of  ?  " 

"  Good  lumber,  sir." 

"  Well,  when  passing  one  day,  I  saw  a  fine  stalk  of  corn  in 
one  of  your  fields.  Will  you  also  tell  us  what  that  was  made 
of  ?  It  must  have  weighed,  with  the  ears  upon  it,  several 
pounds,  and  it  was  all  of  six  feet  high.  How  did  it  come  into 
existence? "  . 

"  Why,  it  grew,"  said  the  squire,  sententiously. 

"That  utterance  was  worthy  of  Solomon,"  remarked  Dr. 
Marvin,  laughing. 

"  It  grew,"  continued  Webb,  "  because  it  found  the  needed 
material  at  hand.  I  do  not  see  how  Nature  can  build  a  well- 
eared  stalk  of  corn  without  proper  material  any  more  than  you 
could  have  built  your  house  without  lumber.  Suppose  we  have 
a  soil  in  which  the  elements  that  make  a  crop  of  corn  do  not 
exist,  or  are  present  in  a  very  deficient  degree,  what  course  is 
left  for  us  but  to  supply  what  is  lacking  ?  Because  Mr.  Walters 
did  not  do  this  in  the  right  way,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  do 
nothing.  If  soil  does  not  contain  the  ingredients  of  a  crop, 
we  must  put  them  there,  or  our  labor  goes  for  nothing." 

"  Well,  of  course  there's  no  gettin'  around  that ;  but  yard 
manure  is  all  I  want.  It's  like  a  square  meal  to  a  man,  and  not 
a  bit  of  powder  on  his  tongue." 

"  No  one  wants  anything  better  than  barn-yard  manure  for 
most  purposes,  for  it  contains  nearly  all  the  elements  needed 
by  growing  plants,  and  its  mechanical  action  is  most  beneficial 
to  the  soil.  But  how  many  acres  will  you  be  able  to  cover  with 
this  fertilizer  this  spring?" 

"That's  just  the  rub,"  the  squire  answered.     "We  use  all  we 


1 10  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

have,  and  when  I  can  pick  it  up  cheap  I  buy  some ;  but  one 
can't  cover  a  whole  farm  with  it,  and  so  in  spite  of  you  some 
fields  get  all  run  out." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  any  need  of  their  running  out,"  said 
Leonard,  emphatically.  "  I  agree  with  Webb  in  one  thing,  if  I 
can't  follow  him  in  all  of  his  scientific  theories  —  we  have  both 
decided  never  to  let  a  field  grow  poor,  any  more  than  we  would 
permit  a  horse  or  cow  to  so  lose  in  flesh  as  to  be  nearly  use- 
less ;  therefore  we  not  only  buy  fertilizers  liberally,  but  use  all 
the  skill  and  care  within  our  power  to  increase  them.  Barn- 
yard manure  can  be  doubled  in  bulk  and  almost  doubled  in 
value  by  composting  with  the  right  materials.  We  make  the 
most  of  our  peat  swamps,  fallen  leaves,  and  rubbish  in  general. 
Enough  goes  to  waste  on  many  farms  every  year  to  keep  several 
acres  in  good  heart.  But,  as  you  say,  we  cannot  begin  to  pro- 
cure enough  to  go  over  all  the  land  from  which  we  are  taking 
crops  of  some  kind ;  therefore  we  maintain  a  rotation  which  is 
adapted  to  our  various  soils,  and  every  now  and  then  plough 
under  a  heavy  green  crop  of  clover,  buckwheat,  or  rye.  A 
green  crop  ploughed  under  is  my  great  stand-by." 

"  I  ploughed  under  a  crop  of  buckwheat  once,"  said  the 
squire,  discontentedly,  "  and  I  didn't  see  much  good  from  it, 
except  that  the  ground  was  light  and  mellow  afterwards." 

"  That,  at  least,  was  a  gain,"  Leonard  continued ;  "  but  I  can 
tell  you  why  your  ground  was  not  much  benefited,  and  perhaps 
injured.  You  scarcely  ploughed  under  a  green  crop,  for  I  re- 
member that  the  grain  in  your  buckwheat  straw  was  partly  ripe. 
It  is  the  forming  seed  or  grain  that  takes  the  substance  out  of 
land.  You  should  have  ploughed  the  buckwheat  under  just  as 
it  was  coming  into  blossom.  Up  to  that  time  the  chief  growth 
had  been  derived  from  the  air,  and  there  had  been  very  little 
drain  upon  the  soil." 

"Well !  "  exclaimed  the  squire,  incredulously,  "  I  didn't  know 
the  air  was  so  nourishing." 

Webb  had  been  showing  increasing  signs  of  disquietude  dur- 


NA  TURE *S  BUILDING  MA  TERIALS.  1 1 1 

ing  the  last  few  moments,  and  now  said,  with  some  emphasis  : 
"  It  seems  to  me,  squire,  that  there  is  not  much  hope  of  our 
farming  successfully  unless  we  do  know  something  of  the  mate- 
rials that  make  our  crops,  and  the  conditions  under  which  they 
grow.  When  you  built  your  house  you  did  not  employ  a  man 
who  had  only  a  vague  idea  of  how  it  was  to  be  constructed,  and 
what  it  was  to  be  built  of.  Before  your  house  was  finished  you 
had  used  lumber  as  your  chief  material,  but  you  also  employed 
brick,  stone,  lime,  sand,  nails,  etc.  If  we  examine  a  house,  we 
find  all  these  materials.  If  we  wish  to  build  another  house,  we 
know  we  must  use  them  in  their  proper  proportions.  Now  it 
is  just  as  much  a  matter  of  fact,  and  is  just  as  capable  of  proof, 
that  a  plant  of  any  kind  is  built  up  on  a  regular  plan,  and  from 
well-defined  materials,  as  that  a  house  is  so  built.  The  mate- 
rials in  various  houses  differ  just  as  t(he  elements  in  different 
kinds  of  plants  vary.  A  man  can  decide  what  he  will  build  of; 
Nature  has  decided  forever  what  she  will  build  of.  She  will 
construct  a  stalk  of  corn  or  wheat  with  its  grain  out  of  essen- 
tially the  same  materials  to  the  end  of  time.  Now  suppose  one 
or  more  of  these  necessary  ingredients  is  limited  in  the  soil,  or 
has  been  taken  from  it  by  a  succession  of  crops,  what  rational 
hope  can  we  have  for  a  good  crop  unless  we  place  the  absent 
material  in  the  ground,  and  also  put  it  there  in  a  form  suitable 
for  the  use  of  the  plant?  " 

"What  you  say  sounds  plausible  enough,"  answered  the 
squire,  scratching  his  head  with  the  worried,  perplexed  air  of  a 
man  convinced  against  his  will.  "  How  was  it,  then,  that  Wal- 
ters made  such  a  mess  of  it  ?  He  had  his  soil  analyzed  by  a 
land  doctor,  and  boasted  that  he  was  going  to  put  into  it  just 
what  was  lacking.  His  soil  may  not  be  lacking  now,  but  his 
crops  are." 

"  It  is  possible  that  there  are  quacks  among  land  doctors,  as 
you  call  them,  as  well  as  among  doctors  of  medicine,"  remarked 
Dr.  Marvin. 

"  Or  doctors  of  theology,"  added  the  minister. 


112  NA  TURE  'S  SERIAL  STOR  V. 

"  I  looked  into  the  Walters  experiment  somewhat  carefully." 
Webb  resumed,  "  and  the  causes  of  his  failure  were  apparent  to 
any  one  who  has  given  a  little  study  to  the  nature  of  soils  and 
plant  food.  Some  of  his  land  needs  draining.  The  ground  is 
sour  and  cold  from  stagnant  water  beneath  the  surface,  and  the 
plant  food  which  Nature  originally  placed  in  it  is  inert  and  in 
no  condition  to  be  used.  Nearly  all  of  his  uplands  have  been 
depleted  of  organic  or  vegetable  matter.  He  did  not  put  into 
the  soil  ail  that  the  plants  needed,  and  the  fact  that  his  crops 
were  poor  proves  it.  The  materials  he  used  may  have  been 
adulterated,  or  not  in  a  form  which  the  plants  could  assimilate 
at  the  time.  Give  Nature  a  soil  in  the  right  mechanical  con- 
dition —  that  is,  light,  mellow,  moist,  but  not  wet,  and  contain- 
ing the  essential  elements  of  a  crop  —  and  she  will  produce  it 
unless  the  season  is  so  adverse  that  it  cannot  grow.  I  do  not 
see  how  one  can  hope  to  be  successful  unless  he  studies  Nature's 
methods  and  learns  her  needs,  adapting  his  labor  to  the  former, 
and  supplying  the  latter.  For  instance,  nitrogen  in  the  form 
of  ammonia  is  so  essential  to  our  crops  that  without  it  they 
could  never  come  to  maturity  were  all  the  other  elements  of 
plant  food  present  in  excess.  Suppose  that  for  several  succes- 
sive years  we  grow  wheat  upon  a  field  with  an  average  crop  of 
twenty-five  bushels  to  the  acre.  This  amount  of  grain  with  its 
straw  will  -take  from  the  soil  about  fifty-one  pounds  of  ammonia 
annually,  and  when  the  nitrogen  (which  is  the  main  element  of 
ammonia)  gives  out,  the  wheat  will  fail,  although  other  plant 
food  may  be  present  in  abundance.  This  is  one  .reason  why 
dairy  farms  from  which  all  the  milk  is  sold  often  grow  poor. 
Milk  is  exceedingly  rich  in  nitrogen,  and  through  the  milk  the 
farm  is  depleted  of  this  essential  element  faster  than  it  is  re- 
placed by  fertilizers.  A  man  may  thus  be  virtually  selling  his 
farm,  or  that  which  gives  it  value,  without  knowing  it." 

"  But  what's  a  man  to  do?  "  asked  the  squire,  with  a  look  of 
helpless  perplexity.  "How  is  one  to  know  when  his  land  needs 
nitrogen  or  ammonia  and  all  the  other  kinds  of  plant  food,  as 


NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIAL.  113 

you  call  it,  and  how  must  he  go  to  work  to  get  and  apply 
it?" 

"  You  are  asking  large  questions,  squire,"  Webb  replied,  with 
a  quiet  smile.  "  In  the  course  of  a  year  you  decide  a  number 
of  legal  questions,  and  I  suppose  read  books,  consult  authori- 
ties, and  use  considerable  judgment.  It  certainly  never  would 
do  for  people  to  settle  these  questions  at  hap-hazard  or  accord- 
ing to  their  own  individual  notions.  Their  decisions  might  be 
reversed.  Whatever  the  courts  may  do,  Nature  is  certain  to 
reverse  our  decisions  and  bring  to  naught  our  action  unless  we 
comply  with  her  laws  and  requirements." 

The  squire's  experience  coincided  so  truly  with  Webb's  words 
that  he  urged  no  further  objections  against  accurate  agricultural 
knowledge,  even  though  the  information  must  be  obtained  in 
part  at  least  from  books  and  journals. 


114  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

GOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS. 

OCTOR,"  said  Mrs.  Leonard,  "Amy  and  I  have  been 
indulging  in  some  surmises  over  a  remark  you  made  the 
other  day  about  the  bluebirds.  You  said  the  female  was  a  cold, 
coy  beauty,  and  that  her  mate  would  soon  be  overburdened  with 
family  cares.  Indeed,  I  think  you  rather  reflected  on  our  sex 
as  represented  by  Mrs.  Bluebird." 

"  I  fear  I  cannot  retract.  The  female  bluebird  is  singularly 
devoid  of  sentiment,  and  takes  life  in  the  most  serious  and 
matter-of-fact  way.  Her  nest  and  her  young  are  all  in  all  to 
her.  John  Burroughs,  who  is  a  very  close  observer,  says  she 
shows  no  affection  for  the  male  and  no  pleasure  in  his  society, 
and  if  he  is  killed  she  goes  in  quest  of  another  mate  in  the 
most  business-like  manner,  as  one  would  go  to  a  shop  on  an 
errand." 

"The  heartless  little  jade  !"  cried  Maggie,  with  a  glance  at 
Leonard  which  plainly  said  that  such  was  not  her  style  at  all. 

"  Nevertheless,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  she  awakens  a  love 
in  her  husband  which  is  blind  to  every  defect.  He  is  gallantry 
itself,  and  at  the  same  time  the  happiest  and  most  hilarious  of 
lovers.  Since  she  insists  on  building  her  nest  herself,  and  hav- 
ing everything  to  her  own  mind,  he  does  not  shrug  his  blue 
shoulders  and  stand  indifferently  or  sullenly  aloof.  He  goes 
with  her  everywhere,  flying  a  little  in  advance  as  if  for  pro- 
tection, inspects  her  work  with  flattering  minuteness,  applauds 
and  compliments  continually.  Indeed,  he  is  the  ideal  French 
beau  very  much  in  love," 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  115 

"  In  other  words,  the  counterpart  of  Leonard,"  said  Burt,  at 
which  they  all  laughed. 

"  But  you  spoke  of  his  family  cares,"  Webb  remarked : 
"  he  contributes  something  more  thari  compliments,  does  he 
not?" 

"  Indeed  he  does.  He  settles  down  into  the  most  devoted 
of  husbands  and  fathers.  The  female  usually  hatches  three 
broods,  and  as  the  season  advances  he  has  his  hands,  or  his 
beak  rather,  very  full  of  business.  I  think  Burroughs  is  mis- 
taken in  saying  that  he  is  in  most  cases  the  ornamental  member 
of  the  firm.  He  feeds  his  wife  as  she  sits  on  the  nest,  and 
often  the  first  brood  is  not  out  of  the  way  before  he  has  another 
to  provide  for.  Therefore  he  is  seen  bringing  food  to  his  wife 
and  two  sets  of  children,  and  occasionally  taking  her  place  on 
the  nest.  Nor  does  he  ever  get  over  his  delusion  that  his  mate 
is  delighted  with  his  song  and  little  gallantries,  for  he  keeps 
them  up  also  to  the  last.  So  he  has  to  be  up  early  and  late, 
and  altogether  must  be  a  very  tired  little  bird  when  he  gets  a 
chance  to  put  his  head  under  his  wing." 

"  Poor  little  fellow  !  and  to  think  that  she  doesn't  care  for 
him  ! "  sighed  Amy,  pityingly ;  and  they  all  laughed  so  heartily 
that  she  bent  her  head  over  her  work  to  hide  the  rich  color  that 
stole  into  her  face  —  all  laughed  except  Mr.  Alvord,  who,  as 
usual,  was  an  attentive  and  quiet  listener,  sitting  a  little  in  the 
background,  so  that  his  face  was  in  partial  shadow.  Keen-eyed 
Maggie,  whose  sympathies  were  deeply  enlisted  in  behalf  of  her 
sad  and  taciturn  neighbor,  observed  that  he  regarded  Amy  with 
a  close,  wistful  scrutiny,  as  if  he  were  reading  her  thoughts. 
Then  an  expression  of  anguish,  of  something  like  despair, 
flitted  across  his  face.  "  He  has  lavished  the  best  treasures  of 
his  heart  and  life  on  some  one  who  did  not  care,"  was  her 
mental  comment. 

"You  won't  be  like  our  little  friend  in  blue,  eh,  Amy?"  said 
old  Mr.  Clifford  ;  but  with  girlish  shyness  she  would  not  reply 
to  any  such  question. 


Il6  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Don't  take  it  so  to  heart,  Miss  Amy.  Mr.  B.  is  never  dis- 
enchanted," the  doctor  remarked. 

"  I  don't  like  Mrs.  B.  at  all,"  said  Maggie,  decidedly ;  "  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  know  women  of  whom  she  is  a  type  — 
women  whose  whole  souls  are  engrossed  with  their  material 
life.  Human  husbands  are  not  so  blind  as  bluebirds,  and  they 
want  something  more  than  housekeepers  and  nurses  in  their 
wives." 

"  Excellent !  "  cried  Rev.  Mr.  Barkdale  ;  "  you  improve  the 
occasion  better  than  I  could.  But,  doctor,  how  about  our 
callous  widow  bluebird  finding  another  mate  after  the  mating 
season  is  over?" 

"There  are  always  some  bachelors  around,  unsuccessful 
wooers  whose  early  blandishments  were  vain." 

"  And  are  there  no  respectable  spinsters  with  whom  they 
might  take  up  as  a  last  resort?"  Leonard  queried. 

"  No,  none  at  all.  Think  of  that,  ye  maidens  of  New  Eng- 
land, where  the  males  are  nearly  all  migrants  and  do  not  return  ! 
The  only  chance  for  a  bird-bachelor  is  to  console  some  widow 
whom  accident  has  bereaved  of  her  mate.  Widowers  also  are 
ready  for  an  immediate  second  marriage.  Birds  and  beasts  of 
prey  and  boys  —  hey,  Alf —  bring  about  a  good  many  step- 
parents." 

"Alf  don't  kill  any  little  birds,  do  you,  Alf?"  asked  his 
mother. 

"  Well,  not  lately.  You  said  they  felt  so  bad  over  it.  But  if 
they  get  over  it  so  easy  as  the  doctor  says  —  " 

"  Now,  doctor,  you  see  the  result  of  your  scientific  teaching." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Leonard,  are  you  in  sympathy  with  the  priest- 
craft that  would  keep  people  virtuous  through  ignorance?"  said 
the  minister,  laughing.  "  Alf  must  learn  to  do  right,  knowing 
all  the  facts.  I  don't  believe  he  will  shy  a  stone  at  a  bird  this 
coming  year  unless  it  is  in  mischief." 

"  Well,"  said  Squire  Bartley,  who  had  relapsed  into  a  half- 
doze  as  the  conversation  lost  its  practical  bent,  "  between  the 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  117 

birds  and  boys  I  don't  see  as  we  shall  be  able  to  raise  any  fruit 
before  long.  If  our  boys  hadn't  killed  about  all  the  robins 
round  our  house  last  summer,  I  don't  think  we'd  'a  had  a  cherry 
or  strawberry." 

"I'm  afraid,  squire,"  put  in  Webb,  quietly,  "that  if  all  fol- 
lowed your  boys'  example,  insects  would  soon  have  the  better 
of  us.  They  are  far  worse  than  the  birds.  I've  seen  it  stated 
on  good  authority  that  a  fledgling  robin  eats  forty  per  cent, 
more  than  its  own  weight  every  twenty- four  hours,  and  I  sup- 
pose it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  compute  the  number  of 
noxious  worms  and  moths  destroyed  by  a  family  of  robins  in 
one  season.  They  earn  their  share  of  fruit." 

"  Webb  is  right,  squire,"  added  the  doctor,  emphatically. 
"  Were  it  not  for  the  birds,  the  country  would  soon  be  as  bare 
as  the  locusts  left  Egypt.  Even  the  crow,  against  which  you 
are  so  vindictive,  is  one  of  your  best  friends." 

"  Oh,  now,  come,  I  can't  swallow  that.  Crows  pull  up  my 
corn,  rob  hens'  nests,  carry  off  young  chickens.  They  even 
rob  the  nests  of  the  other  birds  you're  so  fond  of.  Why,  some 
state  legislatures  give  a  boun^v  for  their  destruction." 

"  If  there  had  only  been  a  'xmnty  for  killing  off  the  legisla- 
tors, the  states  would  have  faral  better,"  replied  the  doctor, 
with  some  heat.  "  It  can  be  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  the 
crow  is  unsurpassed  by  any  other  bird  in  usefulness.  He  is 
one  of  the  best  friends  you  have." 

"  Deliver  me  from  my  friends,  then,"  said  the  squire,  rising ; 
and  he  departed,  with  his  prejudices  against  modern  ideas  and 
methods  somewhat  confirmed. 

Like  multitudes  of  his  class,  he  observed  in  nature  only  that 
which  was  forced  upon  his  attention  through  the  medium  of 
immediate  profit  and  loss.  The  crows  pulled  up  his  corn,  and 
carried  off  an  occasional  chicken ;  the  robins  ate  a  little  fruit ; 
therefore  death  to  crows  and  robins.  They  all  felt  a  certain 
sense  of  relief  at  his  departure,  for  while  their  sympathies 
touched  his  on  the  lower  plane  of  mere  utility  and  money  value, 


Il8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

it  would  be  bondage  to  them  to  be  kept  from  other  and  higher 
considerations.  Moreover,  in  his  own  material  sphere  his  nar- 
row prejudices  were  ever  a  jarring  element  that  often  exasper- 
ated Webb,  who  had  been  known  to  mutter,  "  Such  clods  of 
earth  bring  discredit  on  our  calling." 

Burt,  with  a  mischievous  purpose  illuminating  his  face,  re- 
marked :  "  I'll  try  to  put  the  squire  into  a  dilemma.  If  I  can 
catch  one  of  his  boys  shooting  robins  out  of  season,  I  will 
lodge  a  complaint  with  him,  and  insist  on  the  fine ; "  and  his 
design  was  laughingly  applauded. 

"  I  admit,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  that  Webb  has  won  me  over 
to  a  toleration  of  crows,  but  until  late  years  I  regarded  them  as 
unmitigated  pests." 

"  Undeserved  enmity  comes  about  in  this  way,"  Webb  re- 
plied. "  We  see  a  crow  in  mischief  occasionally,  and  the  fact 
is  laid  up  against  him.  If  we  sought  to  know  what  he  was 
about  when  not  in  mischief,  our  views  would  soon  change.  It 
would  be  far  better  to  have  a  little  corn  pulled  up  than  to  be 
unable  to  raise  corn  at  all.  Crows  can  be  kept  'from  the  field 
during  the  brief  periods  when  they  do  harm,  but  myriads  of 
grasshoppers  cannot  be  managed.  Moreover,  the  crow  destroys 
very  many  field-mice  and  othe  rodents,  but  chief  of  all  he  is 
the  worst  enemy  of  the  May-beetle  and  its  larvae.  In  regions 
of  the  country  where  the  crow  has  been  almost  exterminated 
by  poison  and  other  means,  this  insect  has  left  the  meadows 
brown  and  sear,  while  grasshoppers  have  partially  destroyed 
the  most  valuable  crops.  Why  can't  farmers  get  out  of  their 
plodding,  ox-like  ways,  and  learn  to  co-work  with  Nature  like 
men?" 

"  Hurrah  for  Webb  !  "  cried  Burt.  "  Who  would  have 
thought  that  the  squire  and  a  crow  could  evoke  such  a  perora- 
tion ?  That  flower  of  eloquence  surely  grew  from  a  rank,  dark 
soil." 

"  Squire  Bartley  amuses  me  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford, 
from  the  sofa,  with  a  low  laugh.  "  He  seems  the  only  one 
who  has  the  power  to  ruffle  Webb." 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  '119 

"  Little  wonder,"  thought  Amy,  "  for  it  would  be  hard  to 
find  two  natures  more  antagonistic." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  this  has  been  a  very  silent  winter,"  the 
minister  remarked.  "  In  my  walks  and  drives  of  late  I  have 
scarcely  heard  the  chirp  of  a  bird.  Are  there  many  that  stay 
with  us  through  this  season,  doctor?" 

"  More  than  you  would  suppose.  But  you  would  not  be  apt 
to  meet  many  of  them  unless  you  sought  for  them.  At  this 
time  they  are  gathered  in  sheltered  localities  abounding  in  their 
favorite  food.  Shall  I  tell  you  about  some  that  I  have  observed 
throughout  several  successive  winters?" 

Having  received  eager  encouragement,  he  resumed  :  "  My 
favorites,  the  bluebirds,  we  have  considered  quite  at  length. 
They  are  very  useful,  for  their  food  in  summer  consists  chiefly 
of  the  smaller  beetles  and  the  larvae  of  little  butterflies  and 
moths.  Many  robins  stay  all  winter.  It  is  a  question  of  food, 
not  of  climate,  with  them.  In  certain  valleys  of  the  White 
Mountains  there  is  an  abundance  of  berries,  and  flocks  of 
robins  feed  on  them  all  winter,  although  the  cold  reaches  the 
freezing-point  of  mercury.  As  we  have  said,  they  are  among 
the  most  useful  of  the  insect  destroyers.  The  golden-crested 
kinglet  is  a  little  mite  of  a  bird,  not  four  inches  long,  with  a 
central  patch  of  orange-red  on  his  crown.  He  breeds  in  the 
far  North,  and  wintering  here  is  for  him  like  going  to  the  South. 
In  summer  he  is  a  fly-catcher,  but  here  he  searches  the  bark  of 
forest  trees  with  microscopic  scrutiny  for  the  larvae  of  insects. 
We  all  know  the  lively  black-capped  chickadees  that  fly  around 
in  flocks  throughout  the  winter.  Sometimes  their  search  for 
food  leads  them  into  the  heart  of  towns  and  cities,  where  they 
are  as  bold  and  as  much  at  home  as  the  English  sparrow.  They 
also  gather  around  the  camps  of  log-cutters  in  the  forest,  be- 
come very  tame,  and  plaintively  cry  for  their  share  in  the  meals. 
They  remain  all  the  year,  nesting  in  decayed  logs,  posts,  stumps, 
and  even  in  sides  of  houses,  although  they  prefer  the  edge  of  a 
wood.  If  they  can  find  a  hole  to  suit  them,  very  well ;  if  they 


120  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

can't,  they  will  make  one.  Their  devotion  to  their  young  is 
remarkable.  A  nest  in  a  decayed  stump  was  uncovered,  and 
the  mother  bird  twice  taken  off  by  hand,  and  each  time  she 
returned  and  covered  her  brood.  She  uttered  no  cries  or  com- 
plaints, but  devotedly  interposed  her  little  form  between  what 
must  have  seemed  terrific  monsters  and  her  young,  and  looked 
at  the  human  ogres  with  the  resolute  eyes  of  self-sacrifice.  If 
she  could  have  known  it,  the  monsters  only  wished  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity,  and  were  admiring  her  beyond  measure.  Chick- 
adees are  exceedingly  useful  birds,  and  make  great  havoc  among 
the  insects. 

"  Our  next  bird  is  merely  a  winter  sojourner,  for  he  goes 
north  in  spring  like  the  kinglet.  The  scientists,  with  a  fine 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  have  given  him  a  name  in  har- 
mony, Troglodytes  parvulus,  var.  HyemaKs" 

"  What  monster  bird  is  this?"  cried  Amy. 

"  He  is  about  as  big  as  your  thumb,  and  ordinary  mortals  are 
content  to  call  him  the  winter  wren.  He  is  a  saucy  little  atom 
of  a  bird,  with  his  tail  pointing  rakishly  towards  his  head.  I 
regret  exceedingly  to  add  that  he  is  but  a  winter  resident  with 
us,  and  we  rarely  hear  his  song.  Mr.  Burroughs  says  that  he  is 
a  '  marvellous  songster,'  his  notes  having  a  '  sweet  rhythmical 
cadence  that  holds  you  entranced.'  By  the  way,  if  you  wish 
to  fall  in  love  with  birds,  you  should  read  the  books  of  John 
Burroughs.  A  little  mite  of  a  creature,  like  the  hermit-thrush, 
he  fills  the  wild,  remote  woods  of  the  North  with  melody,  and 
has  not  been  known  to  breed  farther  south  than  Lake  Mohunk. 
The  brown  creeper  and  the  yellow-rumped  warbler  I  will  merely 
mention.  Both  migrate  to  the  North  in  the  spring,  and  the 
latter  is  only  an  occasional  winter  resident.  The  former  is  a 
queer  little  creature  that  alights  at  the  base  of  a  tree  and  creeps 
spirally  round  and  round  to  its  very  top,  when  it  sweeps  down 
to  the  base  of  another  tree  to  repeat  the  process.  He  is  ever 
intent  on  business.  Purple  finches  are  usually  abundant  in 
winter,  though  not  very  numerous  in  summer.  I  value  them 


GOSSfP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  121 

because  they  are  handsome  birds,  and  both  male  and  female 
sing  in  autumn  and  winter,  when  bird  music  is  at  a  premium. 
I  won't  speak  of  the  Carolina  wax-wing,  alias  cedar  or  cherry 
bird,  now.  Next  June,  when  strawberries  and  cherries  are  ripe, 
we  can  form  his  intimate  acquaintance." 

"  We  have  already  made  it,  to  the  cost  of  both  our  patience 
and  purse,"  said  Webb.  "  He  is  one  of  the  birds  for  whom  I 
have  no  mercy." 

"That  is  because  you  are  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
him.  I  admit  that  he  is  an  arrant  thief  of  fruit,  and  that,  as 
his  advocate,  I  have  a  difficult  case.  I  shall  not  plead  for  him 
until  summer,  when  he  is  in  such  imminent  danger  of  capital 
punishment.  He's  a  little  beauty,  though,  with  his  jaunty  crest 
and  gold-tipped  tail.  I  shall  not  say  one  word  in  favor  of  the 
next  bird  that  I  mention,  the  great  Northern  shrike,  or  butcher- 
bird. He  is  not  an  honest  bird  of  prey  that  all  the  smaller 
feathered  tribes  know  at  a  glance,  like  the  hawk ;  he  is  a  dis- 
guised assassin,  and  possessed  by  the  very  demon  of  cruelty. 
He  is  a  handsome  fellow,  little  over  ten  inches  long,  with  a 
short,  powerful  beak,  the  upper  mandible  sharply  curved.  His 
body  is  of  a  bluish-gray  color,  with  '  markings  of  white '  on  his 
dusky  wings  and  tail.  Three  shrikes  once  made  such  havoc 
among  the  sparrows  of  Boston  Common  that  it  became  neces- 
sary to  take  much  pains  to  destroy  them.  He  is  not  only  a 
murderer,  but  an  exceedingly  treacherous  one,  for  both  Mr. 
Audubon  and  Mr.  Nuttall  speak  of  his  efforts  to  decoy  little 
birds  within  his  reach  by  imitating  their  notes,  and  he  does  this 
so  closely  that  he  is  called  a  mocking-bird  in  some  parts  of 
New  England.  When  he  utters  his  usual  note  and  reveals  him- 
self, his  voice  very  properly  resembles  the  '  discordant  creaking 
of  a  sign-board  hinge.'  A  flock  of  snow-birds  or  finches  may 
be  sporting  and  feeding  in  some  low  shrubbery,  for  instance. 
They  may  hear  a  bird  approaching,  imitating  their  own  notes. 
A  moment  later  the  shrike  will  be  seen  among  them,  causing 
no  alarm,  for  his  appearance  is  in  his  favor.  Suddenly  he  will 


122  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

pounce  upon  an  unsuspecting  neighbor,  and  with  one  blow  of 
his  beak  take  off  the  top  of  its  head,  dining  on  its  brains.  If 
there  is  a  chance  to  kill  several  more,  he  will,  like  a  butcher, 
hang  his  prey  on  a  thorn,  or  in  the  crotch  of  a  tree,  and  return 
for  his  favorite  morsel  when  his  hunt  is  over.  After  devouring 
the  head  of  a  bird  he  will  leave  the  body,  unless  game  is  scarce. 
It  is  well  they  are  not  plentiful,  or  else  our  canary  pets  would 
be  in  danger,  for  a  shrike  will  dart  through  an  open  window  and 
attack  birds  in  cages,  even  when  members  of  the  family  are 
present.  In  one  instance  Mr.  Brewer,  the  ornithologist,  was 
sitting  by  a  closed  window  with  a  canary  in  •&  cage  above  his 
head,  and  a  shrike,  ignorant  of  the  intervening  glass,  dashed 
against  the  window,  and  fell  stunned  upon  the  snow.  He  was 
taken  in,  and  found  to  be  tame,  but  sullen.  He  refused  raw 
meat,  but  tore  and  devoured  little  birds  very  readily.  As  I  said 
before,  it  is  fortunate  he  is  rare,  though  why  he  is  so  I  scarcely 
know.  He  may  have  enemies  in  the  North,  where  he  breeds ; 
for  I  am  glad  to  say  that  he  is  only  a  winter  resident. 

"  It  gives  one  a  genuine  sense  of  relief  to  turn  from  this 
Apache,  this  treacherous  scalper  of  birds,  to  those  genuinely 
useful  little  songsters,  the  tree  and  the  song  sparrow.  The 
former  is  essentially  a  Northern  bird,  and  breeds  in  the  high 
arctic  regions.  He  has  a  fine  song,  which  we  hear  in  early 
April  as  his  parting  souvenir.  The  song  sparrow  will  be  a  great 
favorite  with  you,  Miss  Amy,  for  he  is  one  of  our  finest  singers, 
whose  song  resembles  the  opening  notes  of  a  canary,  but  has 
more  sweetness  and  expression.  Those  that  remain  with  us  de- 
part for  the  North  at  the  first  tokens  of  spring,  and  are  replaced 
by  myriads  of  other  migrants  that  usually  arrive  early  in  March. 
You  will  hear  them  some  mild  morning  soon.  They  are  very 
useful  in  destroying  the  worst  kinds  of  insects.  A  fit  associate 
for  the  song  sparrow  is  the  American  goldfinch,  or  yellowbird, 
which  is  as  destructive  of  the  seeds  of  weeds  as  the  former  is  of 
the  smaller  insect  pests.  In  summer  it  is  of  a  bright  gamboge 
yellow,  with  black  crown,  wings,  and  tail.  At  this  time  he  is  a 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  123 

little  olive-brown  bird,  and  mingles  with  his  fellows  in  small 
flocks.  They  are  sometimes  killed  and  sold  as  reed-birds. 
They  are  brilliant  singers. 

"  The  snow-bird  and  snow-bunting  are  not  identical  by  any 
means ;  indeed,  each  is  of  a  different  genus.  The  bunting's 
true  home  is  in  the  far  North,  and  it  is  not  apt  to  be  abundant 
here  except  in  severe  weather.  Specimens  have  been  found, 
however,  early  in  November,  but  more  often  they  appear  with 
a  late  December  snow-storm,  their  wild  notes  suggesting  the 
arctic  wastes  from  which  they  have  recently  drifted  southward. 
The  sleigh  tracks  on  the  frozen  Hudson  are  among  their  favorite 
haunts,  and  they  are  not  often  abundant  in  the  woods  on  this 
side  of  the  river.  Flocks  can  usually  be  found  spending  the 
winter  along  the  railroad  on  the  eastern  shore.  Here  they  be- 
come very  fat,  and  so  begrimed  with  the  dirt  and  grease  on  the 
track  that  you  would  never  associate  them  with  the  snowy 
North.  They  ever  make,  however,  a  singular  and  pretty  spec- 
tacle when  flying  up  between  one  and  the  late  afternoon  sun, 
for  the  predominant  white  in  their  wings  and  tail  seems  almost 
transparent.  They  breed  at  the  extreme  North,  even  along  the 
Arctic  Sea,  in  Greenland  and  Iceland,  and  are  fond  of  marine 
localities  at  all  times.  It's  hard  to  realize  that  the  little  fellows 
with  whom  we  are  now  so  familiar  start  within  a  month  for 
regions  above  the  arctic  circle.  I  once,  when  a  boy,  fired  into 
a  flock  feeding  in  a  sleigh  track  on  the  ice  of  the  river.  Some 
of  those  that  escaped  soon  returned  to  their  dead  and  wounded 
companions,  and  in  their  solicitude  would  let  me  come  very 
near,  nor,  unless  driven  away,  would  they  leave  the  injured  ones 
until  life  was  extinct.  On  another  occasion  I  brought  some 
wounded  ones  home,  and  they  ate  as  if  starved,  and  soon  be- 
came very  tame,  alighting  upon  the  table  at  meal-times  with  a 
freedom  from  ceremony  which  made  it  necessary  to  shut  them 
up.  They  spent  most  of  their  time  among  the  house  plants  by 
the  window,  but  towards  spring  the  migratory  instinct  asserted 
itself,  and  they  became  very  restless,  pecking  at  the  panes  in 


124  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY, 

their  eagerness  to  get  away.  Soon  afterwards  our  little  guests 
may  have  been  sporting  on  an  arctic  beach.  An  effort  was  once 
made  in  Massachusetts  to  keep  a  wounded  snow-bunting  through 
the  summer,  but  at  last  it  died  from  the  heat.  They  are  usually 
on  the  wing  northward  early  in  March. 

"  The  ordinary  snow-bird  is  a  very  unpretentious  and  familiar 
little  friend.  You  can  find  him  almost  any  day  from  the  ist  of 
October  to  the  ist  of  May,  and  may  know  him  by  his  gray- 
ish or  ashy  black  head,  back,  and  wings,  white  body  underneath 
from  the  middle  of  his  breast  backward,  and  white  external  tail- 
feathers.  He  is  said  to  be  abundant  all  over  America  east  of 
the  Black  Hills,  and  breeds  as  far  south  as  the  mountains  of 
Virginia.  There  are  plenty  of  them  in  summer  along  the  Sha- 
wangunk  range,  just  west  of  us,  in  the  Catskills,  and  so  north- 
ward above  the  arctic  circle.  In  the  spring,  before  it  leaves  us, 
you  wjll  often  hear  its  pretty  little  song.  They  are  very  much 
afraid  of  hawks,  which  make  havoc  among  them  at  all  times, 
but  are  fearless  of  their  human  —  and  especially  of  their  hu- 
mane —  neighbors.  Severe  weather  will  often  bring  them  to 
our  very  doors,  and  drive  them  into  the  outskirts  of  large 
cities.  They  are  not  only  harmless,  but  very  useful,  for  they 
devour  innumerable  seeds,  and  small  insects  with  their  larvae. 

"  Dear  me  !  I  could  talk  about  birds  all  night." 

"  And  we  could  listen  to  you,"  chorussed  several  voices. 

"  I  never  before  realized  that  we  had  such  interesting  winter 
neighbors  and  visitors,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  and  the  lustre  of  her 
eyes  and  the  faint  bloom  on  her  cheeks  proved  how  deeply 
these  little  children  of  nature  had  enlisted  her  sympathies. 

"  They  are  interesting,  even  when  in  one  short  evening  I  can 
give  but  in  bald,  brief  outline  a  few  of  their  characteristics. 
Your  words  suggest  the  true  way  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
them.  Regard  them  as  neighbors  and  guests,  in  the  main  very 
useful  friends,  and  then  you  will  naturally  wish  to  know  more 
about  them.  In  most  instances  they  are  quite  susceptible  to 
kindness,  and  are  ready  to  be  intimate  with  us.  That  handsome 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  12$ 

bird,  the  blue  jay,  so  wild  at  the  East,  is  as  tame  and  domestic 
as  the  robin  in  many  parts  of  the  West,  because  treated  well. 
He  is  also  a  winter  resident,  and  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
birds  in  existence.  Indeed,  he  is  a  genuine  humorist,  and 
many  amusing  stories  are  told  of  his  pranks.  His  powers  of 
mimicry  are  but  slightly  surpassed  by  those  of  the  mocking- 
bird, and  it  is  his  delight  to  send  the  smaller  feathered  tribes  to 
covert  by  imitating  the  cries'  of  the  sparrow,  hawk,  and  other 
birds  of  prey.  When  so  tame  as  to  haunt  the  neighborhood  of 
dwellings,  he  is  unwearied  in  playing  his  tricks  on  domestic 
fowls,  and  they  —  silly  creatures  !  —  never  learn  to  detect  the 
practical  joke,  for,  no  matter  how  often  it  is  repeated,  they 
hasten  panic-stricken  to  shelter.  Wilson  speaks  of  him  as  the 
trumpeter  of  the  feathered  chorus,  but  his  range  of  notes  is 
very  great,  passing  from  harsh,  grating  sounds,  like  the  screech- 
ing of  an  unlubricated  axle,  to  a  warbling  as  soft  and  modulated 
as  that  of  a  bluebird,  and  again,  prompted  by  his  mercurial 
nature,  screaming  like  a  derisive  fish-wife.  Fledglings  will  de- 
velop contentedly  in  a  cage,  and  become  tame  and  amusing 
pets.  They  will  learn  to  imitate  the  human  voice  and  almost 
every  other  familiar  sound.  A  gentleman  in  South  Carolina 
had  one  that  was  as  loquacious  as  a  parrot,  and  could  utter  dis- 
tinctly several  words.  In  this  region  they  are  hunted,  and  too 
shy  for  familiar  acquaintance.  When  a  boy,  I  have  been  tan- 
talized almost  beyond  endurance  by  them,  and  they  seemed  to 
know  and  delight  in  the  fact.  I  was  wild  to  get  a  shot  at  them, 
but  they  would  keep  just  out  of  range,  mocking  me  with  dis- 
cordant cries,  and  alarming  all  the  other  game  in  the  vicinity. 
They  often  had  more  sport  than  I.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  small 
boy  with  his  gun  cannot  be  taught  to  let  them  alone.  If  they 
were  as  domestic  and  plentiful  as  robins,  they  would  render  us 
immense  service.  A  colony  of  jays  would  soon  destroy  all  the 
tent-caterpillars  on  your  place,  and  many  other  pests.  In  In- 
diana they  will  build  in  the  shrubbery  around  dwellings,  but  we 
usually  hear  their  cries  from  mountain-sides  and  distant  groves. 


126  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Pleasant  memories  of  rambles  and  nutting  excursions  they 
always  awaken.  The  blue  jay  belongs  to  the  crow  family,  and 
has  all  the  brains  of  his  black-coated  and  more  sedate  cousins. 
At  the  North,  he  will,  like  a  squirrel,  lay  up  for  winter  a  hoard 
of  acorns  and  beech  mast.  An  experienced  bird-fancier  asserts 
that  he  found  the  jay  '  more  ingenious,  cunning,  and  teachable 
than  any  other  species  of  birds  that  he  had  ever  attempted  to 
instruct.' 

"  One  of  our  most  beautiful  and  interesting  winter  visitants  is 
the  pine  grosbeak.  Although  very  abundant  in  some  seasons, 
even  extending  its  migrations  to  the  latitude  of  Philadelphia, 
it  is  irregular,  and  only  the  coldest  weather  prompts  its  excur- 
sions southward.  The  general  color  of  the  males  is  a  light 
carmine,  or  rose,  and  if  only  plentiful  they  would  make  a  beau- 
tiful feature  in  our  snowy  landscape.  As  a  general  thing,  the 
red  tints  are  brighter  in  the  American  than  in  the  European 
birds.  The  females,  however,  are  much  more  modest  in  their 
plumage,  being  ash-colored  above,  with  a  trace  of  carmine  be- 
hind their  heads  and  upon  their  upper  tail  coverts,  and  some- 
times tinged  with  greenish-yellow  beneath.  The  females  are  by 
far  our  more  abundant  visitants,  for  in  the  winter  of  '75  I  saw 
numerous  flocks,  and  not  over  two  per  cent,  were  males  in  red 
plumage.  Still,  strange  to  say,  I  saw  a  large  flock  of  adult 
males  the  preceding  November,  feeding  on  the  seeds  of  a  Nor- 
way spruce  before  our  house.  Oh,  what  a  brilliant  assemblage 
they  made  among  the  dark  branches  !  In  their  usual  haunts 
they  live  a  very  retired  life.  The  deepest  recesses  of  the  pine 
forests  at  the  far  North  are  their  favorite  haunts,  and  here  the 
majority  generally  remain  throughout  the  year.  In  these  re- 
mote wilds  is  bred  the  fearlessness  of  man  which  is  the  result 
of  ignorance,  for  they  are  among  the  tamest  of  all  wild  birds, 
finding,  in  this  respect,  their  counterpart  in  the  American  red 
cross-bill,  another  occasional  cold- weather  visitant.  For  several 
winters  the  grosbeaks  were  exceedingly  abundant  in  the  vicinity 
of  Boston,  and  were  so  tame  that  they  could  be  captured  in 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  I2/ 

butterfly  nets,  and  knocked  down  with  poles.  The  markets 
became  full  of  them,  and  many  were  caged.  While  tame  they 
were  very  unhappy  in  confinement,  and  as  spring  advanced  their 
mournful  cries  over  their  captivity  became  incessant.  They  can 
be  kept  as  pets,  however,  and  will  often  sing  in  the  night.  Mr. 
Audubon  observed  that  when  he  fired  at  one  of  their  number, 
the  others,  instead  of  flying  away,  would  approach  within  a  few 
feet,  and  gaze  at  him  with  undisguised  curiosity,  unmingled  with 
fear.  I  have  seen  some  large  flocks  this  winter,  and  a  few  fed 
daily  on  a  bare  plot  of  ground  at  the  end  of  our  piazza.  I  was 
standing  above  this  plot  one  day,  when  a  magnificent  red  male 
flew  just  beneath  my  feet  and  drank  at  a  little  pool.  I  never 
saw  anything  more  lovely  in  my  life  than  the  varying  sheen  of 
his  brilliant  tropical-like  plumage.  He  was  like  a  many-hued 
animated  flower,  and  was  so  fearless  that  I  could  have  touched 
him  with  a  cane.  One  very  severe,  stormy  winter  the  grosbeaks 
fairly  crowded  the  streets  of  Pictou.  A  gentleman  took  one  of 
these  half-starved  birds  into  his  room,  where  it  lived  at  large, 
and  soon  became  the  tamest  and  most  affectionate  of  pets. 
But  in  the  spring,  when  its  mates  were  migrating  north,  Nature 
asserted  herself,  and  it  lost  its  familiarity,  and  filled  the  house 
with  its  piteous  wailings,  refused  food,  and  sought  constantly  to 
escape.  When  the  grosbeaks  are  with  us  you  would  not  be  apt 
to  notice  them  unless  you  stumbled  directly  upon  them,  for  they 
are  the  most  silent  of  birds,  which  is  remarkable,  since  the 
great  majority  of  them  are  females." 

"  That  is  just  the  reason  why  they  are  so  still,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Leonard.  "  Ladies  never  speak  unless  they  have  some- 
thing to  say." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  contradict  you.  The  lady  grosbeaks 
certainly  have  very  little  to  say  to  one  another,  though  when 
mating  in  their  secluded  haunts  they  probably  express  their 
preferences  decidedly.  If  they  have  an  ear  for  music,  they 
must  enjoy  their  wooing  immensely,  for  there  is  scarcely  a  love- 
lier song  than  that  of  the  male  grosbeak.  I  never  heard  it  but 


128  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

once,  and  may  never  again ;  but  the  thrill  of  delight  that  I  ex- 
perienced that  intensely  cold  March  day  can  never  be  forgotten. 
I  was  following  the  course  of  a  stream  that  flowed  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  deep  ravine,  when,  most  unexpectedly,  I  heard  a  new 
song,  which  proceeded  from  far  up  the  glen.  The  notes  were 
loud,  rich,  and  sweet,  and  I  hastened  on  to  identify  the  new 
vocalist.  I  soon  discovered  a  superb  red  pine  grosbeak  perched 
on  the  top  of  a  tall  hemlock.  His  rose-colored  plumage  and 
mellow  notes  on  that  bleak  day  caused  me  to  regret  exceedingly 
that  he  was  only  an  uncertain  and  transient  visitor  to  our  region. 

"  We  have  a  large  family  of  resident  hawks  in  this  vicinity ; 
indeed,  there  are  nine  varieties  of  this  species  of  bird  with  us 
at  this  time,  although  some  of  them  are  rarely  seen.  The 
marsh-hawk  has  a  bluish  or  brown  plumage,  and  in  either  case 
is  distinguished  by  a  patch  of  white  on  its  upper  tail  coverts. 
You  would  not  be  apt  to  meet  with  it  except  in  its  favorite 
haunts.  I  found  a  nest  in  the  centre  of  Consook  Marsh,  be- 
low West  Point.  It  was  a  rude  affair.  The  nests  of  this  hawk 
are  usually  made  of  hay,  lined  with  pine  needles,  and  some- 
times at  the  North  with  feathers.  This  bird  is  found  nearly 
everywhere  in  North  America,  and  breeds  as  high  as  Hudson 
Bay.  In  the  marshes  on  the  Delaware  it  is  often  called  the 
mouse-hawk,  for  it  sweeps  swiftly  along  the  low  ground  in  search 
of  a  species  of  mouse  common  in  that  locality.  It  is  said  to 
be  very  useful  in  the  Southern  rice-fields,  since,  as  it  sails  lovv, 
it  interrupts  the  flocks  of  bobolinks,  or  rice-birds,  in  their  dep- 
redations. Planters  say  that  one  marsh-hawk  accomplishes 
more  than  several  negroes  in  alarming  these  greedy  little  gour- 
mands. In  this  region  they  do  us  no  practical  harm. 

"  Our  most  abundant  hawk  is  the  broad-winged,  which  will 
measure  about  thirty-six  inches  with  wings  extended.  The 
plumage  of  this  bird  is  so  dusky  as  to  impart  a  prevalent  brown- 
ish color,  and  the  species  is  distributed  generally  over  eastern 
North  America.  Unlike  the  marsh-hawk,  it  builds  in  trees,  and 
Mr.  Audubon  describes  a  nest  as  similar  to  that  of  the  crow  — 


GOSS/P  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  129 

a  resemblance  easily  accounted  for  by  the  frequency  with  which 
this  hawk  will  repair  crows'  nests  of  former  years  for  its  own 
use.  I  once  shot  one  upon  such  a  nest,  from  which  I  had 
taken  crows'  eggs  the  preceding  summer.  I  had  only  wounded 
the  bird,  and  he  clawed  me  severely  before  I  was  able  to  cap- 
ture him.  I  once  took  a  fledgling  from  a  nest,  and  he  became 
very  fond  of  me,  and  quite  gentle,  but  he  would  not  let  any  one 
else  handle  him.  On  another  occasion,  when  I  was  examining  a 
nest,  the  male  bird  flew  to  a  branch  just  over  it,  uttering  loud, 
squealing  cries,  thence  darted  swiftly  past  me,  and  so  close  that 
I  could  feel  the  rush  of  air  made  by  his  wings ;  then  he  perched 
near  again,  and  threatened  me  in  every  way  he  could,  extend- 
ing his  wings,  inclining  his  head  and  body  towards  me,  making 
meanwhile  a  queer  whistling  sound.  Only  when  I  reached  the 
nest  would  the  female  leave  it,  and  then  she  withdrew  but  a 
short  distance,  returning  as  soon  as  I  began  to  descend.  The 
devotion  of  these  wild  creatures  to  their  young  is  often  marvel- 
lous. Mr.  Audubon  describes  this  hawk  as  '  spiritless,  inactive, 
and  so  deficient  in  courage  that  he  is  often  chased  by  the  little 
sparrow-hawk  and  kingbird.'  Another  naturalist  dissents  em- 
phatically from  this  view,  and  regards  the  broad-winged  as  the 
most  courageous  and  spirited  of  his  family,  citing  an  instance 
of  a  man  in  his  employ  who,  while  ascending  to  a  nest,  was  as- 
sailed with  great  fury.  His  hat  was  torn  from  his  head,  and  he 
would  have  been  injured  had  not  the  bird  been  shot.  He  also 
gives  another  example  of  courage  in  an  attack  by  this  hawk 
upon  a  boy  seeking  to  rob  its  nest.  It  fastened  its  talons  in  his 
arm,  and  could  not  be  beaten  off  until  it  was  killed.  Perhaps 
both  naturalists  are  right.  It  is  brave  and  fierce  when  its  home 
is  disturbed,  and  lacks  the  courage  to  attack  other  birds  of  its 
own  kind.  At  any  rate,  it  has  no  hesitancy  in  making  hawk- 
love  to  chickens  and  ducklings,  but  as  a  rule  subsists  on  insects 
and  small  quadrupeds.  It  is  not  a  very  common  winter  resi- 
dent, but  early  in  March  it  begins  to  come  northward  in  flocks. 
"  Next  to  the  broad-winged,  the  sharp-shinned  is  our  most 


130  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

abundant  hawk,  and  is  found  throughout  the  entire  continent 
from  Hudson  Bay  to  Mexico.  It  usually  builds  its  nest  in 
trees,  and  occasionally  on  ledges  of  rocks,  and  as  a  general 
thing  takes  some  pains  in  its  construction.  Its  domicile  ap- 
proaches the  eagle's  nest  in  form,  is  broad  and  shallow,  and 
made  of  sticks  and  twigs  lined  thinly  with  dried  leaves,  mosses, 
etc.  A  full-grown  female  —  which,  as  I  told  you  once  before, 
is  always  larger  than  the  male  among  birds  of  prey  —  measures 
about  twenty-six  inches  with  wings  extended.  It  is  lead-colored 
above,  and  lighter  beneath.  You  can  easily  recognize  this  hawk 
by  its  short  wings,  long  tail,  and  swift,  irregular  flight.  One 
moment  it  is  high  in  the  air,  the  next  it  disappears  in  the  grass, 
having  seized  the  object  of  its  pursuit.  It  is  capable  of  sur- 
prisingly sudden  dashes,  and  its  pursuit  is  so  rapid  that  escape 
is  well-nigh  hopeless.  It  is  not  daunted  by  obstacles.  Mr. 
Audubon  saw  one  dart  into  a  thicket  of  briers,  strike  and  in- 
stantly kill  a  thrush,  and  emerge  with  it  on  the  opposite  side. 
It  often  makes  havoc  among  young  chickens.  One  came  every 
day  to  a  poultry-yard  until  it  had  carried  off  over  twenty.  It 
does  not  hesitate  to  pounce  down  upon  a  chicken  even  in  the 
farmer's  presence ;  and  one,  in  a  headlong  pursuit,  broke 
through  the  glass  of  a  greenhouse,  then  dashed  through  another 
glass  partition,  and  was  only  brought  up  by  a  third.  Pigeons 
are  also  quite  in  its  line.  Indeed,  it  is  a  bold  red-taloned  free- 
booter, and  only  condescends  to  insects  and  the  smaller  reptiles 
when  there  are  no  little  birds  at  hand.  During  the  spring 
migration  this  hawk  is  sometimes. seen  in  large  flocks. 

"  The  American  goshawk  is  the  next  bird  of  this  family  that 
I  will  mention,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  say  that  he  is  only  a 
winter  resident.  He  is  the  dreaded  blue  hen-hawk  of  New 
England,  and  is  about  twenty-three  inches  long,  and  forty-four 
from  tip  to  tip  of  wings.  One  good  authority  says  that  for 
strength,  intrepidity,  and  fury  he  carmot  be  surpassed.  He  will 
swoop  down  into  a  poultry-yard  and  carry  off  a  chicken  almost 
before;  you  ca.n.  take  a  breath.  He  is  swift,  cunning,  and  adroit 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  131 

rather  than  heedless  and  headlong,  like  the  sharp-shinned  hawk, 
and  although  the  bereaved  farmer  may  be  on  the  alert  with  his 
gun,  this  marauder  will  watch  his  chance,  dash  into  the  yard, 
then  out  again  with  his  prey,  so  suddenly  that  only  the  de- 
spairing cries  of  the  fowl  reveal  the  murderous  onslaught.  In 
western  Maine  this  hawk  is  very  common.  A  housewife  will 
hear  a  rush  of  wings  and  cries  of  terror,  and  can  only  reach 
the  door  in  time  to  see  one  of  these  robbers  sailing  off  with  the 
finest  of  her  pullets.  Hares  and  wild-ducks  are  favorite  game 
also.  The  goshawk  will  take  a  mallard  with  perfect  ease,  neatly 
and  deliberately  strip  off  the  feathers,  and  then,  like  an  epicure', 
eat  the  breast  only.  Audubon  once  saw  a  large  flock  of  black- 
birds crossing  the  Ohio.  Like  an  arrow  a  goshawk  darted  upon 
them,  while  they,  in  their  fright,  huddled  together.  The  hawk 
seized  one  after  another,  giving  each  a  death-squeeze,  then 
dropping  it  into  the  water.  In  this  way  he  killed  five  before 
the  flock  escaped  into  the  woods.  He  then  leisurely  went 
back,  picked  them  up  one  by  one,  and  carried  them  to  the  spot 
selected  for  his  lunch.  With  us,  I  am  happy  to  say,  he  is  shy 
and  distant,  preferring  the  river  marshes  to  the  vicinity  of  our 
farm-yards.  He  usually  takes  his  prey  while  swooping  swiftly 
along  on  the  wing." 

"  Have  we  any  hawks  similar  to  those  employed  in  the  old- 
time  falconry  of  Europe  ?  "  Webb  asked. 

"Yes;  our  duck  or  great-footed  hawk  is  almost  identical 
with  the  well-known  peregrine  falcon  of  Europe.  It  is  a  per- 
manent resident,  and  breeds  on  the  inaccessible  cliffs  of  the 
Highlands,  although  preferring  similar  localities  along  a  rocky 
sea-coast.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  our  duck-hawk 
might  be  trained  for  the  chase  as  readily  as  its  foreign  congener. 
It  has  the  same  wonderful  powers  of  flight,  equal  docility  in 
confinement,  and  can  be  taught  to  love  and  obey  its  master.  I 
have  often  wondered  why  falconry  has  not  been  revived,  like 
other  ancient  sports.  The  Germans  are  said  to  have  employed 
trained  hawks  to  capture  carrier-pigeons  that  were  sent  out  with 


132  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

missives  by  the  French  during  the  siege  of  Paris.  In  a  few 
instances  the  duck-hawk  has  been  known  to  nest  in  trees.  It 
is  a  solitary  bird,  and  the  sexes  do  not  associate  except  at  the 
breeding  season.  While  it  prefers  water-fowl,  it  does  not  con- 
fine itself  to  them.  I  shot  one  on  a  Long  Island  beach  and 
found  in  its  crop  whole  legs  of  the  robin,  Alice's  thrush,  cat- 
bird, and  warblers.  It  measures  about  forty-five  inches  in  the 
stretch  of  its  wings,  and  its  prevailing  color  is  of  a  dark  blue. 

"  The  pigeon-hawk  is  not  very  rare  at  this  season.  Professor 
Baird  describes  this  bird  as  remarkable  for  its  rapid  flight,  its 
courage,  and  its  enterprise  in  attacking  birds  even  larger  than 
itself.  This  accords  with  my  experience,  for  my  only  specimen 
was  shot  in  the  act  of  destroying  a  hen.  He  is  about  the  size 
of  our  common  flicker,  or  high-holder,  which  bird,  with  robins, 
pigeons,  and  others  of  similar  size,  is  his  favorite  game.  The 
sparrow-hawk  is  rare  at  this  time,  and  is  only  abundant  occa- 
sionally during  its  migrations.  The  red-shouldered  hawk  is  a 
handsome  bird,  with  some  very  good  traits,  and  is  a  common 
permanent  resident.  Unless  hunted,  these  birds  are  not  shy, 
and  they  remain  mated  throughout  the  year.  Many  a  human 
pair  might  learn  much  from  their  affectionate  and  considerate 
treatment  of  each  other.  They  do  not  trouble  poultry-yards, 
and  are  fond  of  frogs,  cray-fish,  and  even  insects.  Occasionally 
they  will  attack  birds  as  large  as  a  meadow-lark.  They  have  a 
high  and  very  irregular  flight,  but  occasionally  they  so  stuff 
themselves  with  frogs  that  they  can  scarcely  move.  Wilson 
found  one  with  the  remains  of  ten  frogs  in  his  crop. 

"  Last  among  the  winter  residents  I  can  merely  mention  the 
red-tailed  hawk,  so  named  from  the  deep  rufus 'color  of  its  tail 
feathers.  It  is  a  heavy,  robust  bird,  and  while  it  usually  feeds 
on  mice,  moles,  and  shrews  that  abound  in  meadows,  its  depre- 
dations on  farm-yards  are  not  infrequent.  It  is  widely  dis- 
tributed throughout  the  continent,  and  abundant  here.  It  is  a 
powerful  bird,  and  can  compass  long  distances  with  a  strong, 
steady  flight,  often  moving  with  no  apparent  motion  of  the 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS.  133 

wings.  It  rarely  seizes  its  prey  while  flying,  like  the  goshawk, 
but  with  its  keen  vision  will  inspect  the  immediate  vicinity  from 
the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  thence  dart  upon  it.  It  is  not  par- 
ticular as  to  its  food.  Insects,  birds,  and  reptiles  are  alike  wel- 
come game,  and  in  summer  it  may  be  seen  carrying  a  writhing 
snake  through  the  air.  While  flying  it  utters  a  very  harsh, 
peculiar,  and  disagreeable  scream,  and  by  some  is  called  the 
squealing  hawk.  The  social  habits  of  this  bird  are  in  appro- 
priate concord  with  its  voice.  After  rearing  their  young  the 
sexes  separate,  and  are  jealous  of  and  hostile  to  each  other.  It 
may  easily  happen  that  if  the  wife  of  the  spring  captures  any 
prey,  her  former  mate  will  struggle  fiercely  for  its  possession, 
and  the  screaming  clamor  of  the  fight  will  rival  a  conjugal 
quarrel  in  the  Bowery.  In  this  respect  they  form  an  unpleasing 
contrast  with  the  red-shouldered  hawks,  among  whom  marriage 
is  permanent,  and  maintained  with  lover-like  attentions.  Thus 
it  would  appear  that  there  are  contrasts  of  character  even  in 
the  hawk  world ;  and  when  you  remember  that  we  have  fifteen 
other  varieties  of  this  bird,  besides  the  nine  I  have  mentioned, 
you  may  think  that  nature,  like  society,  is  rather  prodigal  in 
hawks.  As  civilization  advances,  however,  innocence  stands  a 
better  chance.  At  least  this  is  true  of  the  harmless  song-birds. 
"  I  have  now  given  you  free-hand  sketches  of  the  great  ma- 
jority of  our  winter  residents,  and  these  outlines  are  necessarily 
very  defective  from  their  brevity  as  well  as  for  other  reasons. 
I  have  already  talked  an  unconscionably  long  time ;  but  what 
else  could  you  expect  from  a  man  with  a  hobby  ?  As  it  is,  I 
am  not  near  through,  for  the  queer  little  white-bellied  nut-hatch, 
and  his  associates  in  habits,  the  downy,  the  hairy,  the  golden- 
winged,  and  the  yellow-bellied  woodpeckers,  and  four  species 
of  owls,  are  also  with  us  at  this  season.  With  the  bluebirds  the 
great  tide  of  migration  has  already  turned  northward,  and  all 
through  March,  April,  and  May  I  expect  to  greet  the  successive 
arrivals  of  old  friends  every  time  I  go  out  to  visit  my  patients. 
I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  no  stupid,  lonely  drives,  unless  the 


134  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

nights  are  dark  and  stormy.  Little  Johnnie,  I  see,  has  gone  to 
sleep.  I  must  try  to  meet  some  fairies  and  banshees  in  the 
moonlight  for  her  benefit.  But,  Alf,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you 
so  wide-awake.  Shooting  birds  as  game  merely  is  very  well,  but 
capturing  them  in  a  way  to  know  all  about  them  is  a  sport  that 
is  always  in  season,  and  would  grow  more  and  more  absorbing 
if  you  lived  a  thousand  years." 

A  bent  for  life  was  probably  given  to  the  boy's  mind  that 
night. 


FISHING   THROUGH  THE  ICE.  135 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FISHING   THROUGH   THE    ICE. 

EVERY  day  through  th'e  latter  part  of  February  the  sun  grew 
higher,  and  its  rays  more  potent.  The  snow  gave  rapidly 
in  warm  southern  nooks  and  slopes,  and  the  icicles  lengthened 
from  the  eaves  and  overhanging  rocks,  forming  in  many  in- 
stances beautiful  crystal  fringes.  On  northern  slopes  and  shaded 
places  the  snow  scarcely  wasted  at  all,  and  Amy  often  wondered 
how  the  vast  white  body  that  covered  the  earth  could  ever  dis- 
appear in  time  for  spring.  But  there  soon  came  a  raw,  chilly, 
cloudy  day,  with  a  high  south  wind,  and  the  snow  sank  away, 
increasing  the  apparent  height  of  the  fences,  and  revealing  ob- 
jects hitherto  hidden,  as  if  some  magic  were  at  work. 

"  I  have  always  observed,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  that  a  day  like 
this,  raw  and  cold  as  it  seems,  does  more  to  carry  off  the  snow 
than  a  week  of  spring  sunshine,  although  it  may  be  warm  for 
the  season.  What  is  more,  the  snow  is  wasted  evenly,  and  not 
merely  on  sunny  slopes.  The  wind  seems  to  soak  up  the  melt- 
ing snow  like  a  great  sponge,  for  the  streams  are  not  perceptibly 
raised." 

"  The  air  does  take  it  up  in  the  form  of  vapor,"  said  Webb, 
"  and  that  is  why  we  have  such  a  chilly  snow  atmosphere.  Rap- 
idly melting  snow  tends  to  lower  the  temperature  proportion- 
ately, just  as  ice  around  a  form  of  cream,  when  made  to  melt 
quickly  by  the  addition  of  salt,  absorbs  all  heat  in  its  vicinity 
so  fast  that  the  cream  is  congealed.  But  this  accumulation  of 
vapor  in  the  air  must  come  down  again,  perhaps  in  the  form  of 
snow,  and  so  there  will  be  no  apparent  gain." 


136  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  If  no  apparent  gain,  could  there  be  a  real  gain  by  another 
fall  of  snow?  "  Amy  asked,  for  to  inexperienced  eyes  there  cer- 
tainly seemed  more  than  could  be  disposed  of  in  time  for  April 
flowers. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  a  fall  of  snow  might  make  this  whole 
section  warmer  for  a  time,  and  so  hasten  spring  materially.  Do 
not  worry.  We  shall  have  plenty  of  snow-storms  yet,  and  still 
spring  will  be  here  practically  on  time." 

But  instead  of  snow  the  vapor- burdened  air  relieved  itself  by 
a  rain  of  several  hours'  duration,  and  in  the  morning  the  river 
that  had  been  so  white  looked  icy  and  glistening,  and  by  the 
aid  of  a  glass  was  seen  to  be  covered  with  water,  which  rippled 
under  the  rising  breeze.  The  following  night  was  clear  and 
cold,  and  the  surface  of  the  bay  became  a  comparatively  smooth 
glare  of  ice.  At  dinner  next  day  Webb  remarked  : 

"I  hear  that  they  are  catching  a  good  many  striped  bass 
through  the  ice,  and  I  learned  that  the  tide  would  be  right  for 
them  to  raise  the  nets  this  afternoon.  I  propose,  Amy,  that 
we  go  down  and  see  the  process,  and  get  some  of  the  fish  direct 
from  the  water  for  supper." 

Burt  groaned,  and  was  almost  jealous  that  during  his  enforced 
confinement  so  many  opportunities  to  take  Amy  out  fell  natu- 
rally to  Webb.  The  latter,  however,  was  so  entirely  fraternal 
in  his  manner  towards  the  young  girl  that  Burt  was  ever  able  to 
convince  himself  that  his  misgivings  were  absurd. 

Webb  was  soon  ready,  and  had  provided  himself  with  his 
skates  and  a  small  sleigh  with  a  back.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
landing  he  tied  his  horse,  and  said  : 

"  The  ice  is  too  poor  to  drive  on  any  longer,  I  am  informed, 
but  perfectly  safe  still  for  foot-passengers.  As  a  precaution  we 
will  follow  the  tracks  of  the  fishermen,  and  I  will  give  you  a 
swift  ride  on  this  little  sledge,  in  which  I  can  wrap  you  up  well." 

Like  most  young  men  brought  up  in  the  vicinity,  he  was  a 
good  and  powerful  skater,  and  Amy  was  soon  enjoying  the  ex- 
hilarating sense  of  rapid  motion  over  the  smooth  ice,  with  a 


FISHING   THROUGH  THE  ICE.  137 

superb  view  of  the  grand  mountains  rising  on  either  side  of  the 
river  a  little  to  the  south.  They  soon  reached  the  nets,  which 
stretched  across  the  river  through  narrow  longitudinal  cuts  so 
as  to  be  at  right  angles  to  each  tide,  with  which  the  fish  usually 
swim.  These  nets  are  such  in  shape  as  were  formerly  suspended 
between  the  old-fashioned  shad-poles,  and  are  sunk  perpendic- 
ularly in  the  water  by  weights  at  each  end,  so  that  the  meshes 
are  expanded  nearly  to  their  full  extent.  The  fish  swim  into 
these  precisely  as  do  the  shad,  and  in  their  attempts  to  back 
out  their  gills  catch,  and  there  they  hang. 

The  nets  are  about  twelve  feet  square,  and  the  meshes  of  dif- 
ferent nets  are  from  two  and  a  half  to  five  and  a  quarter  inches 
in  size.  A  bass  of  nine  pounds'  weight  can  be  "  gilled  "  in  the 
ordinary  manner ;  but  in  one  instance  a  fish  weighing  one  hun- 
dred and  two  pounds  was  caught,  and  during  the  present  season 
they  were  informed  that  a  lucky  fisherman  at  Marlborough  had 
secured  "  a  5  2-pounder."  These  heavy  fellows,  it  was  explained, 
"  would  go  through  a  net  like  a  cannon-ball "  if  they  came 
"  head  on,"  and  with  ordinary  speed ;  but  if  they  are  playing 
around  gently,  the  swift  tide  carries  them  sideways  into  the 
"  slack  of  the  net,"  from  which  they  seem  unable  to  escape. 
There  are  usually  about  forty-five  feet  between  the  surface  of 
the  water  and  the  top  of  the  nets,  therefore  the  fish  are  caught 
at  an  average  depth  of  fifty  feet.  The  best  winter  fishing  is 
from  December  to  March,  and  as  many  as  one  hundred  and 
seventy  pounds,  or  about  two  hundred  bass,  have  been  taken  in 
twenty-four  hours  from  one  line  of  nets  ;  at  other  times  the  luck 
is  very  bad,  for  the  fish  seem  to  run  in  streaks. 

The  luck  was  exceedingly  moderate  on  the  present  occasion, 
but  enough  fish  were  caught  to  satisfy  Webb's  needs.  As  they 
were  watching  the  lifting  of  the  nets  and  angling  for  information, 
they  saw  an  ice-boat  slowly  and  gracefully  leaving  the  landing, 
and  were  told  that  since  the  ice  had  grown  thin  it  had  taken 
the  place  of  the  sleigh  in  which  the  passengers  were  conveyed 
to  and  from  the  railroad  station  on  the  farther  shore.  The  wind, 


138  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

being  adverse,  necessitated  several  tacks,  and  on  one  of  them 
the  boat  passed  so  near  Webb  and  Amy  that  they  recognized 
Mr.  Barkdale,  the  clergyman,  who,  as  he  sped  by,  saluted  them. 
When  the  boat  had  passed  on  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile,  it  tacked 
so  suddenly  and  sharply  that  the  unwary  minister  was  rolled  out 
upon  the  ice.  The  speed  and  impetus  of  the  little  craft  were 
so  great  that  before  it  could  be  brought  up  it  was  about  half  a 
mile  away,  and  the  good  man  was  left  in  what  might  be  a  dan- 
gerous isolation,  for  ice  over  which  the  boat  could  skim  in  se- 
curity might  be  very  unsafe  under  the  stationary  weight  of  a 
solidly  built  man  like  Mr.  Barkdale.  Webb  therefore  seized 
a  pole  belonging  to  one  of  the  fishermen,  and  came  speedily  to 
the  clergyman's  side.  Happily  the  ice,  although  it  had  wasted 
rapidly  from  the  action  of  the  tide  in  that  part  of  the  river, 
sustained  them  until  the  boat  returned,  and  the  good  man  re- 
sumed his  journey  with  laughing  words,  by  which  he  neverthe- 
less conveyed  to  Webb  his  honest  gratitude  for  the  promptness 
with  which  the  young  fellow  had  shared  his  possible  danger, 
when  Webb  returned  he  found  Amy  pale  and  agitated,  for  an 
indiscreet  fisherman  had  remarked  that  the  ice  was  "mighty 
poor  out  in  that  direction." 

"  Won't  you  please  come  off  the  river?  "  she  asked,  nervously. 
"  I've  seen  all  I  wish." 

"  It's  perfectly  safe  here." 

"  But  you  were  not  here  a  moment  since,  and  I've  no  confi- 
dence in  your  discretion  when  any  one  is  in  danger." 

"  I  did  not  run  any  risks  worth  speaking  of." 

"  I  think  you  did.  The  men  explained,  in  answer  to  my 
questions,  that  the  ice  towards  spring  becomes  honey-combed 
—  that's  the  way  they  expressed  it  —  and  lets  one  through 
without  much  warning.  They  also  said  the  tides  wore  it  away 
underneath  about  as  fast  as  the  rain  and  sun  wasted  the  surface." 

"  Supposing  it  had  let  me  through,  I  should  have  caught  on 
the  pole,  and  so  have  easily  scrambled  out,  while  poor  Mr. 
Barkdale  would  have  been  quite  helpless." 


FISHING   THROUGH  THE  ICE.  139 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  was  right  for  you  to  go,  and  I  know  you  will 
go  again  should  there  be  the  slightest  occasion.  Therefore  I 
am  eager  to  reach  solid  ground.  Please,  Webb." 

Her  tone  was  so  earnest  that  he  complied,  and  they  were 
soon  in  the  sleigh  again.  As  they  were  driving  up  the  hill  she 
turned  a  shy  glance  towards  him,  and  said,  hesitatingly  :  "  Don't 
mistake  me,  Webb.  I  am  proud  to  think  that  you  are  so  brave 
and  uncalculating  at  times  ;  but  then  I  —  I  never  like  to  think 
that  you  are  in  danger.  Remember  how  very  much  you  are  to 
us  all." 

"  Well,  that  is  rather  a  new  thought  to  me.  Am  I  much  to 
you?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  she  said,  gravely  and  earnestly,  looking  him 
frankly  in  the  face.  "  From  the  first  moment  you  spoke  to  me 
as  'sister  Amy'  you  made  the  relation  seem  real.  And  then 
your  manner  is  so  strong  and  even  that  it's  restful  to  be  with 
you.  You  may  give  one  a  terrible  fright,  as  you  did  me  this 
afternoon,  but  you  would  never  make  one  nervous." 

His  face  flushed  with  deep  pleasure,  but  he  made  good  her 
opinion  by  quietly  changing  the  subject,  and  giving  her  a  brisk, 
bracing  drive  over  one  of  her  favorite  roads. 

All  at  the  supper  table  agreed  that  the  striped  bass  were  de- 
licious, and  Burt,  as  the  recognized  sportsman  of  the  family, 
had  much  to  say  about  the  habits  of  this  fine  game  fish. 
Among  his  remarks  he  explained  that  the  "catch"  was  small  at 
present  because  the  recent  rain  and  melting  snow  had  made 
the  water  of  the  river  so  fresh  that  the  fish  had  been  driven 
back  towards  the  sea.  "  But  they  re-ascend,"  he  said,  "  as 
soon  as  the  freshet  subsides.  They  are  a  sea  fish,  and  only 
ascend  fresh-water  streams  for  shelter  in  winter,  and  to  breed 
in  spring.  They  spawn  in  May,  and  by  August  the  little  fish 
will  weigh  a  quarter  of  a  pound.  A  good  many  are  taken  with 
seines  after  the  ice  breaks  up,  but  I  never  had  any  luck  with 
pole  and  line  in  the  river.  While  striped  bass  are  found  all 
along  the  coast  from  Florida  to  Cape  Cod,  the  largest  fish  are 


140  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

taken  between  the  latter  place  and  Montauk  Point.  I  once 
had  some  rare  sport  off  the  east  end  of  Long  Island.  I  was 
still-fishing,  with  a  pole  and  reel,  and  fastened  on  my  hook  a 
peeled  shedder  crab.  My  line  was  of  linen,  six  hundred  feet 
long,  and  no  heavier  than  that  used  for  trout,  but  very  strong. 
By  a  quick  movement  which  an  old  bass-fisherman  taught  me  I 
made  my  bait  dart  like  an  arrow  straight  over  the  water  more 
than  one  hundred  feet,  my  reel  at  the  same  moment  whirling, 
in  paying  out,  as  if  it  would  fuse  from  friction.  Well,  I  soon 
hooked  a  fifty-pound  fish,  and  we  had  a  tussle  that  I  shall  never 
forget.  It  took  me  an  hour  to  tire  him  out,  and  I  had  to  use 
all  the  skill  I  possessed  to  keep  him  from  breaking  the  line.  It 
was  rare  sport,  I  can  tell  you  —  the  finest  bit  of  excitement  I 
ever  had  fishing ; "  and  the  young  fellow's  eyes  sparkled  at  the 
memory. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  some,  his  mother  shared  most 
largely  in  his  enthusiasm.  The  reason  was  that,  apart  from  the 
interest  which  she  took  in  the  pleasure  of  all  her  children,  she 
lived  much  in  her  imagination,  which  was  unusually  strong,  and 
Burt's  words  called  up  a  marine  picture  with  an  athletic  young 
fellow  in  the  foreground  all  on  the  qui  vive,  his  blue  eyes  flash- 
ing with  the  sparkle  and  light  of  the  sea  as  he  matched  his  skill 
and  science  against  a  creature  stronger  than  himself.  "  Are 
larger  bass  ever  taken  with  rod  and  line?  "she  asked. 

"  Yes,  one  weighing  seventy-five  pounds  has  been  captured. 
Jupiter  !  what  sport  it  must  have  been  !  " 
-"  How  big  do  they  grow,  anyhow?  "  Leonard  queried. 

"  To  almost  your  size,  Len,  and  that's  a  heavy  compliment 
to  the  bass.  They  have  been  known  to  reach  the  weight  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 


PLANNING  AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN.      141 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

PLANNING   AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN. 

THE  last  day  of  February  was  clear,  cloudless,  and  cold, 
the  evening  serene  and  still.     Winter's  tempestuous  course 
was   run,  its   icy  breath  apparently  had  ceased,  and  darkness 
closed  on  its  quiet,  pallid  face. 

"March  came  in  like  a  lamb" — an  ominous  circumstance 
for  the  future  record  of  this  month  of  most  uncertain  weather, 
according  to  the  traditions  of  the  old  weather-prophets.  The 
sun  rose  clear  and  warm,  the  snow  sparkled  and  melted,  the 
bluebirds  rejoiced,  and  their  soft  notes  of  mutual  congratulation 
found  many  echoes  among  their  human  neighbors.  By  noon 
the  air  was  wonderfully  soft  and  balmy,  and  Webb  brought  in  a 
number  of  sprays  from  peach-trees  cut  in  different  parts  of  the 
place,  and  redeemed  his  promise  to  Amy,  showing  her  the 
fruit  germs,  either  green,  or  rather  of  a  delicate  gold-color,  or 
else  blackened  by  frost.  She  was  astonished  to  find  how  per- 
fect the  embryo  blossom  appeared  under  the  microscope.  It 
needed  no  glass,  however,  to  reveal  the  blackened  heart  of  the 
bud,  and  Webb,  having  cut  through  a  goodly  number,  remarked  : 
"  It  would  now  appear  a.s  if  nature  had  performed  a  very 
important  labor  for  us,  for  I  find  about  eight  out  of  nine  buds 
killed.  It  will  save  us  thinning  the  fruit  next  summer,  for  if 
one  ninth  of  the  buds  mature  into  peaches  they  will  not  only 
bring  more  money,  but  will  measure  more  by  the  bushel." 
"  How  can  one  peach  measure  more  than  eight  peaches?  " 
"  By  being  larger  than  the  eight.  If  all  these  buds  grew 


142  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

into  peaches,  and  were  left  on  these  slender  boughs,  the  tree 
might  be  killed  outright  by  overbearing,  and  would  assuredly 
be  much  injured  and  disfigured  by  broken  limbs  and  exhaus- 
tion, while  the  fruit  itself  would  be  so  small  and  poor  as  to  be 
unsalable.  Thousands  of  trees  annually  perish  from  this  cause, 
and  millions  of  peaches  are  either  not  picked,  or,  if  marketed, 
may  bring  the  grower  into  debt  for  freight  and  other  expenses. 
A  profitable  crop  of  peaches  can  only  be  grown  by  careful 
hand-thinning  when  they  are  as  large  as  marbles,  unless  the 
frost  does  the  work  for  us  by  killing  the  greater  part  of  the 
buds.  It  is  a  dangerous  ally,  however,  for  our  constant  fear  is 
that  it  will  destroy  all  the  buds.  There  are  plenty  left  yet,  and 
I  find  that  cherry,  apple,  plum,  and  pear  buds  are  still  safe.  In- 
deed, there  is  little  fear  for  them  as  long  as  peach  buds  are  not 
entirely  destroyed,  for  they  are  much  hardier." 

In  the  afternoon  Burt,  who  had  become  expert  in  the  use  of 
crutches,  determined  on  an  airing,  and  invited  Amy  to  join  him. 
"  I  now  intend  to  begin  giving  you  driving  lessons,"  he  said. 
"You  will  soon  acquire  entire  confidence,  for  skill,  far  more 
than  strength,  is  required.  As  long  as  one  keeps  cool  and 
shows  no  fear  there  is  rarely  danger.  Horses  often  catch  their 
senseless  panic  from  their  drivers,  and,  even  when  frightened 
with  good  cause,  can  usually  be  re-assured  by  a  few  quiet  words 
and  a  firm  rein." 

Amy  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  lesson  in  driving, 
especially  as  Burt,  because  of  his  lameness,  did  not  venture  to 
take  his  over-spirited  steed  Thunder.  She  sincerely  hoped, 
however,  that  he  would  confine  his  thoughts  and  attentions  to 
the  ostensible  object  of  the  drive,  fqr  his  manner  at  times  was 
embarrassingly  ardent.  Burt  was  sufficiently  politic  to  fulfil 
her  hope,  for  he  had  many  other  drives  in  view,  and  had  dis- 
covered that  attentions  not  fraternal  were  unwelcome  to  Amy. 
With  a  self-restraint  and  prudence  which  he  thought  most 
praiseworthy  and  sagacious,  but  which  were  ludicrous  in  their 
limitations,  he  resolved  to  take  a  few  weeks  to  make  the  im- 


PLANNING  AND  OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN.      143 

pression  which  he  had  often  succeeded  in  producing  in  a  few 
hours,  judging  from  the  relentings  and  favors  received  in  a 
rather  extended  career  of  gallantry,  although  it  puzzled  the 
young  fellow  that  he  could  have  been  so  fascinated  on  former 
occasions.  He  merely  proposed  that  now  she  should  enjoy  the 
drive  so  thoroughly  that  she  would  wish  to  go  again,  and  his 
effort  met  with  entire  success. 

During  the  first  week  of  March  there  were  many  indications 
of  the  opening  campaign  on  the  Clifford  farm.  There  was  the 
overhauling  and  furbishing  of  weapons,  otherwise  tools,  and  the 
mending  or  strengthening  of  those  in  a  decrepit  state.  A  list 
of  such  additional  ones  as  were  wanted  was  made  at  this  time, 
and  an  order  sent  for  them  at  once.  Amy  also  observed  that 
practical  Leonard  was  conning  several  catalogues  of  imple- 
ments. "  Len  is  always  on  the  scent  of  some  new  patent  hoe 
or  cultivator,"  Burt  remarked.  "  My  game  pays  better  than 
yours,"  was  the  reply,  "  for  the  right  kind  of  tools  about 
doubles  the  effectiveness  of  labor." 

The  chief,  topic  of  discussion  and  form  of  industry  at  this 
time  were  the  pruning  and  cleansing  of  trees,  and  Amy  often 
observed  Webb  from  her  windows  in  what  seemed  to  her  most 
perilous  positions  in  the  tops  of  apple  and  other  trees,  with  saw 
and  pruning  shears  or  nippers  —  a  light  little  instrument  with 
such  a  powerful  leverage  that  a  good-sized  bough  could  be 
lopped  away  by  one  slight  pressure  of  the  hand. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  Leonard,  one  evening,  "  tha> 
there  is  much  diversity  of  opinion  in  regard  to  the  time  and 
method  of  trimming  trees.  While  the  majority  of  our  neigh- 
bors prune  in  March,  some  say  fall  or  winter  is  the  best  time. 
Others  are  in  favor  of  June,  and  in  some  paper  I've  read, 
'  Prune  when  your  knife  is  sharp.'  As  for  cleansing  the  bark 
of  the  trees,  very  few  take  the  trouble." 

"  Well,"  replied  his  father,  "  I've  always  performed  these 
labors  in  March  with  good  results.  I  have  often  observed  that 
taking  off  large  limbs  from  old  and  feeble  trees  is  apt  to  injure 


144  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY.   ' 

them.  A  decay  begins  at  the  point  of  amputation  and  extends 
down  into  the  body  of  the  tree.  Sap-suckers  and  other  wood- 
peckers, in  making  their  nests,  soon  excavate  this  rotten  wood 
back  into  the  trunk,  to  which  the  moisture  of  every  storm  is 
admitted,  and  the  life  of  the  tree  is  shortened." 

At  this  point  Webb  went  out,  and  soon  returned  with  some- 
thing like  exultation  blending  with  his  usually  grave  expression. 

"  I  think  father's  views  are  correct,  and  I  have  confirmation 
here  in  autograph  letters  from  three  of  the  most  eminent  horti- 
culturists in  the  world  —  " 

"  Good  gracious,  Webb  !  don't  take  away  our  breath  in  that 
style,"  exclaimed  Burt.  "  Have  you  autograph  letters  from 
several  autocrats  also?" 

As  usual  Webb  ignored  his  brother's  nonsense,  and  resumed  : 
"  The  first  is  from  the  Hon.  Marshall  P.  Wilder,  President  of 
the  American  Pomological  Society,  and  is  as  follows  :  '  I  prune 
my  trees  early  in  March,  as  soon  as  the  heavy  frosts  are  over, 
when  the  sap  is  dormant.  If  the  branch  is  large  I  do  not  cut 
quite  close  in,  and  recut  close  in  June,  when  the  wound  heals 
more  readily.  I  do  not  approve  of  rigorous  pruning  of  old 
trees  showing  signs  of  feebleness.  Such  operations  would  in- 
crease decline  —  only  the  dead  wood  should  be  removed,  the 
loss  of  live  wood  depriving  old  trees  of  the  supply  of  sap  which 
they  need  for  support.  Grafting-wax  is  good  to  cover  the 
wounds  of  trees,  or  a-thick  paint  of  the  color  of  the  bark  an- 
swers well.  Trees  also  may  be  pruned  in  safety  in  June  after 
the  first  growth  is  made  —  then  the  wounds  heal  quickly.' 

"The  next  letter  is  from  Mr.  Charles  Downing,  editor  of 
'The  Fruits  and  Fruit-Trees  of  America.'  'When  the  extreme 
cold  weather  is  over/  he  says,  '  say  the  last  of  February  or  first 
of  March,  begin  to  trim  trees,  and  finish  as  rapidly  as  conven- 
ient. Do  not  trim  a  tree  too  much  at  one  time,  and  cut  no 
large  limbs  if  possible,  but  thin  out  the  small  branches.  If  the 
trees  are  old  and  bark-bound,  scrape  off  the  roughest  bark  and 
wash  the  bodies  and  large  limbs  with  whale-oil  soap,  or  soft- 


PLANNING  AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN.      145 

soap  such  as  the  farmers  make,  putting  it  on  quite  thick.  Give 
the  ground  plenty  of  compost  manure,  bone-dust,  ashes,  and 
salt.  The  best  and  most  convenient  preparation  for  covering 
wounds  is  gum-shellac  dissolved  in  alcohol  to  the  thickness  of 
paint,  and  put  on  with  a  brush.'  The  last  is  from  Mr.  Patrick 
Barry,  of  the  eminent  Rochester  firm,  and  author  of  '  The  Fruit 
Garden.'  '  In  our  climate  pruning  may  be  done  at  conven- 
ience, from  the  fall  of  the  leaf  until  the  ist  of  April.  In  resusci- 
tating old  neglected  apple-trees,  rigorous  pruning  may  be  com- 
bined with  ploughing  and  manuring  of  the  ground.  For  cover- 
ing wounds  made  in  pruning,  nothing  is  better  than  common 
grafting-wax  laid  on  warm  with  a  brush.'  Hon.  P.  T.  Quinn, 
in  his  work  on  '  Pear  Culture '  writes  :  *  On  our  own  place  we 
begin  to  prune  our  pear-trees  from  the  ist  to  the  i5th  of 
March,  and  go  on  with  the  work  through  April.  It  is  not  best 
to  do  much  cutting,  except  on  very  young  trees,  while  the  foli- 
age is  coming  out.' " 

"  Well,"  remarked  Leonard,  "  I  can  go  to  work  to-morrow 
with  entire  content ;  and  very  pleasant  work  it"  is,  too,  especially 
on  the  young  trees,  where  by  a  little  forethought  and  a  few  cuts 
one  can  regulate  the  form  and  appearance  of  the  future  tree." 

"  How  is  that  possible  ?  "  Amy  asked. 

"Well,  you  see  there  are  plenty  of  buds  on  all  the  young 
branches,  and  we  can  cut  a  branch  just  above  the  bud  we  wish 
to  grow,  which  will  continue  to  grow  in  the  direction  in  which 
it  points.  Thus  we  can  shape  each  summer's  growth  in  any 
direction  we  choose." 

"  How  can  you  be  sure  to  find  a  bud  just  where  you  want 
it?" 

"  I  know  we  always  do." 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  said  Webb,  "  for  buds  are  arranged  spi- 
rally on  trees  in  mathematical  order.  On  most  trees  it  is  termed 
the  '  five-ranked  arrangement,'  and  every  bud  is  just  two-fifths 
of  the  circumference  of  the  stem  from  the  next.  This  will 
bring  every  sixth  bud  or  leaf  over  the  first,  or  the  one  we  start 


146  .     NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

with.  Thus  in  the  length  of  stem  occupied  by  five  buds  you 
have  buds  facing  in  five  different  directions  —  plenty  of  choice 
for  all  pruning  purposes." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Webb ;  you  are  too  everlastingly  scientific. 
Buds  and  leaves  are  scattered  at  hap-hazard  all  over  the 
branches." 

"That  shows  you  observe  at  hap-hazard.  Wait,  and  I'll 
prove  I'm  right ; "  and  he  seized  his  hat  and  went  out.  Re- 
turning after  a  few  minutes  with  long,  slender  shoots  of  peach, 
apple,  and  pear  trees,  he  said :  "  Now  put  your  finger  on  any 
bud,  and  count.  See  if  the  sixth  bud  does  not  stand  invariably 
over  the  one  you  start  from,  and  if  the  intervening  buds  do  not 
wind  spirally  twice  around  the  stem,  each  facing  in  a  different 
direction." 

The  result  proved  Webb  to  be  right.  He  laughed,  and  said : 
"There,  Len,  you've  seen  buds  and  branches  for  over  forty 
years,  and  never  noticed  this.  Here,  Alf,  you  begin  right,  and 
learn  to  see  things  just  as  they  are.  There's  no  telling  how 
often  accurate  knowledge  may  be  useful." 

"  But,  Webb,  all  plants  have  not  the  five-ranked  arrangement, 
as  you  term  it,"  his  mother  protested. 

"  Oh  no.  There  is  the  two-ranked,  in  which  the  third  leaf 
stands  over  the  first ;  the  three-ranked,  in  which  the  fourth  leaf 
stands  over  the  first.  Then  we  also  find  the  eighth  and  thir- 
teenth ranked  arrangements,  according  to  the  construction  of 
various  species  of  plants  or  trees.  But  having  once  observed 
an  arrangement  of  buds  or  leaves  in  a  species,  you  will  find  it 
maintained  with  absolute  symmetry  and  accuracy,  although  the 
spaces  between  the  buds  lengthwise  upon  the  stem  may  vary 
very  much.  Nature,  with  all  her  seeming  carelessness  and 
abandon,  works  on  strict  mathematical  principles." 

"  Well,"  said  Alf,  "  I'm  going  to  see  if  you  are  right  to-mor- 
row. I  don't  half  believe  you  are."  And  on  the  following  day 
he  tried  his  bejst  to  prove  Webb  wrong,  but  failed. 

Before  the  week  was  over  there  was  a  decided  return  of 


PLANNING  AND   OPENING    THE   CAMPAIGN.      147 

winter.  The  sky  lost  its  spring  like  blue.  Cold,  ragged  clouds 
were  driven  wildly  by  a  northeast  gale,  which,  penetrating  the 
heaviest  wraps,  caused  a  shivering  sense  of  discomfort.  Only 
by  the  most  vigorous  exercise  could  one  cope  with  the  raw,  icy 
wind,  and  yet  the  effort  to  do  so  brought  a  rich  return  in  warm, 
purified  blood.  All  out-door  labor,  except  such  as  required 
strong,  rapid  action,  came  to  an  end,  for  it  was  the  very  season 
and  opportunity  for  pneumonia  to  seize  upon  its  chilled  victim. 
To  a  family  constituted  like  the  Cliffords  such  weather  brought 
no  ennui.  They  had  time  for  more  music  and  reading  aloud 
than  usual.  .  The  pets  in  the  flower-room  needed  extra  care 
and  watching,  for  the  bitter  wind  searched  out  every  crevice 
and  cranny.  Entering  the  dining-room  on  one  occasion,  Amy 
found  the  brothers  poring  over  a  map  spread  out  on  the  table. 

"What !  studying  geography?"  she  said.  "It  certainly  is  a 
severe  stress  of  weather  that  has  brought  you  all  to  that.  What 
countries  are  you  exploring?" 

"These  are  our  Western  Territories,"  Burt  promptly  re- 
spjuded.  "This  prominent  point  here  is  Fort  Totem,  and 
thesj  indications  of  adjacent  buildings  are  for  the  storage  of 
furs,  bear-meat,  and  the  accommodation  of  Indian  hunters." 
Burt  tried  to  look  serious,  but  Webb's  and  Leonard's  laughter 
betrayed  him.  Amy  turned  inquiringly  to  Webb,  as  she  ever 
did  when  perplexed. 

"Don't  mind  Burt's  chaff,"  he  said.  "This  is  merely  a  map 
of  the  farm,  and  we  are  doing  a  little  planning  for  our  spring 
work  —  deciding  what  crop  we  shall  put  on  that  field  and  how 
treat  this  one,  etc.  You  can  see,  Amy,  that  each  field  is  num- 
bered, and  here  in  this  book  are  corresponding  numbers,  with 
a  record  of  the  crops  grown  upon  each  field  for  a  good  many 
years  back,  to  what  extent  and  how  often  they  have  been  en- 
riched, and  the  kind  of  fertilizers  used.  Of  course  such  a  book 
of  manuscript  would  be  the  dreariest  prose  in  the  world  to  you, 
but  it  is  exceedingly  interesting  to  us  ;  and  what's  more,  these 
past  records  are  the  best  possible  guides  for  future  action," 


148  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  your  book  now,"  she  said,  with  an  air 
of  entire  confidence,  "  for  I've  heard  papa  say  that  land  and 
crop  records  have  been  kept  in  England  for  generations.  I 
don't  think  I  will  sit  up  nights  to  read  your  manuscript,  how- 
ever. If  Burt's  version  had  been  true,  it  might  have  been  quite 
exciting." 

She  did  enjoy  aiding  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  in  overhauling 
the  seed-chest,  however.  This  was  a  wooden  box,  all  tinned 
over  to  keep  out  the  mice,  and  was  divided  into  many  little 
compartments,  in  which  were  paper  bags  of  seeds,  with  the  date 
on  which  they  were  gathered  or  purchased.  Some,  of  the  seeds 
were  condemned  because  too  old ;  others,  like  those  of  melons 
and  cucumbers,  improved  with  a  moderate  degree  of  age,  she 
was  told.  Mrs.  Clifford  brought  out  from  her  part  of  the  chest 
a  rich  store  of  flower  seeds,  and  the  young  girl  looked  with 
much  curiosity  on  the  odd-appearing  little  grains  and  scale-like 
objects  in  which,  in  miniature,  was  wrapped  some  beautiful  and 
fragrant  plant.  "Queer  little  promises,  ain't  they? "said  the 
old  lady ;  "  for  every  seed  is  a  promise  to  me." 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Amy,"  the  old  gentleman  remarked, 
"  this  chest  contains  the  assurance  of  many  a  good  dinner  and 
many  a  beautiful  bouquet.  Now,  like  a  good  girl,  help  us  make 
an  inventory.  We  will  first  have  a  list  of  what  we  may  consider 
trustworthy  seeds  on  hand,  and  then,  with  the  aid  of  these 
catalogues,  we  can  make  out  another  list  of  what  we  shall  buy. 
Seed  catalogues,  with  their  long  list  of  novelties,  never  lose 
their  fascination  for  me.  I  know  that  most  of  the  new  things 
are  not  half  so  good  as  the  old  tried  sorts,  but  still  I  like  to  try 
some  every  year.  It's  a  harmless  sort  of  gambling,  you  see, 
and  now  and  then  I  draw  a  genuine  prize.  Mother  has  the 
gambling  mania  far  worse  than  I,  as  is  evident  from  the  way  she 
goes  into  the  flower  novelties." 

"I  own  up  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  "and  I  do  love  to  see 
the  almost  endless  diversity  in  beauty  which  one  species  of 
plants  will  exhibit.  Why,  do  you  know,  Amy,  I  grew  from 


PLANNING  AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN.      149 

seeds  one  summer  fifty  distinct  varieties  of  the  dianthus.  Sup- 
pose we  take  asters  this  year,  and  see  how  many  distinct  kinds 
we  can  grow.  Here,  in  this  catalogue,  is  a  long  list  of  named 
varieties,  and,  in  addition,  there  are  packages  of  mixed  seeds 
from  which  we  may  get  something  distinct  from  all  the  others." 

"  How  full  of  zest  life  becomes  in  the  country,"  cried  Amy, 
"  if  one  only  goes  to  work  in  the  right  way  !  "  Life  was  grow- 
ing fuller  and  richer  to  her  every  day  in  the  varied  and  abound- 
ing interests  of  the  family  with  which  she  was  now  entirely 
identified. 

"  Webb,"  his  mother  asked  at  dinner,  "  how  do  you  explain 
the  varying  vitality  of  seeds  ?  Some  we  can  keep  six  or  eight 
years,  and  others  only  two." 

"  That's  a  question  I  am  unable  to  answer.  It  cannot  be  the 
amount  of  material  stored  up  in  the  cotyledons,  or  embryo  seed 
leaves,  for  small  seeds  like  the  beet  and  cucumber  will  retain 
their  vitality  ten  years,  and  lettuce,  turnip,  and  tomato  seed  five 
or  more  years,  while  I  do  not  care  to  plant  large,  fleshy  seeds 
like  pease  and  beans  that  are  over  three  years  old,  and  much 
prefer  those  gathered  the  previous  season.  The  whole  question 
of  the  germinating  of  seeds  is  a  curious  one.  Wheat  taken 
from  the  wrappings  of  an  Egyptian  mummy  has  grown.  Many 
seeds  appear  to  have  a  certain  instinct  when  to  grow,  and  will 
lie  dormant  in  the  ground  for  indefinite  periods  waiting  for 
favorable  conditions.  For  instance,  sow  wood-ashes  copiously 
and  you  speedily  have  a  crop  of  white  clover.  Again,  when 
one  kind  of  timber  is  cut  from  land,  another  and  diverse  kind 
will  spring  up,  as  if  the  soil  were  full  of  seeds  that  had  been 
biding  their  time.  For  all  practical  purposes  the  duration  of 
vitality  is  known,  and  'is  usually  given  in  seed  catalogues,  I 
think,  or  ought  to  be." 

"  Some  say  that  certain  fertilizers  or  conditions  will  produce 
certain  kinds  of  vegetation  without  the  aid  of  seeds  —  just 
develop  them,  you  know,"  Leonard  remarked. 

"  Develop  them  from  what?  " 


150  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  That's  the  question." 

"  Well,  I  think  the  sensible  answer  is  that  all  vegetation  is 
developed  from  seeds,  spores,  or  whatever  was  designed  to  con- 
tinue the  chain  of  being  from  one  plant  to  another.  For  the 
life  of  me  I  can't  see  how  mere  organic  or  inorganic  matter 
can  produce  life.  It  can  only  sustain  and  nourish  the  life  which 
exists  in  it  or  is  placed  in  it,  and  which  by  a  law  of  nature 
develops  when  the  conditions  are  favorable.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  there  is  not  an  instance  on  record  of  the  spontaneous  pro- 
duction of  life,  even  down  to  the  smallest  animalcule  in  liquids, 
or  the  minutest  plant  life  that  is  propagated  by  invisible  spores. 
That  the  microscope  does  not  reveal  these  spores  or  germs 
proves  nothing,  for  the  strongest  microscope  in  the  world  has 
not  begun  to  reach  the  final  atom  of  which  matter  is  composed. 
Indeed,  it  would  seem  to  be  as  limited  in  its  power  to  explore 
the  infinitely  little  and  near  as  the  telescope  to  reveal  the  infi- 
nitely distant  and  great.  Up  to  this  time  science  has  discovered 
nothing  to  contravene  the  assurance  that  God,  or  some  one, 
'created  every  living  creature  that  moveth,  and  every  herb 
yielding  seed  after  his  kind.'  After  a  series  of  most  careful  and 
accurate  experiments,  Professor  Tyndall  could  find  no  proof  of 
the  spontaneous  production  of  even  microscopic  life,  and  found 
much  proof  to  the  contrary.  How  far  original  creations  are 
changed  or  modified  by  evolution,  natural  selection,  is  a  ques- 
tion that  is  to  be  settled  neither  by  dogmatism  on  the  one  hand, 
nor  by  baseless  theories  on  the  other,  but  by  facts,  and  plenty 
of  them." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  anything  atheistical  in  evolution  ?" 
his  mother  asked,  and  with  some  solicitude  in  her  large  eyes, 
for,  like  all  trained  in  the  old  beliefs,  she  felt  that  the  new  phi- 
losophies led  away  into  a  realm  of  vague  negations.  Webb 
understood  her  anxiety  lest  the  faith  she  had  taught  him  should 
become  unsettled,  and  he  re-assured  her  in  a  characteristic  way. 

"  No,  mother,"  he  said.  "  If  evolution  is  the  true  expla- 
nation of  the  world,  as  it  now  appears  to  us,  it  is  no  more 


PLANNING  AND  OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN.      151 

atheistical  than  some  theologies  I  have  heard  preached,  which 
contained  plenty  of  doctrines  and  attributes,  but  no  God.  If 
God  with  his  infinite  leisure  chooses  to  evolve  his  universe,  why 
shouldn't  he?  In  any  case  a  creative,  intelligent  power  is 
equally  essential.  It  would  be  just  as  easy  for  me  to  believe 
that  all  the  watches  and  jewelry  at  Tiffany's  were  the  result  of 
fortuitous  causes  as  to  believe  that  the  world  as  we  find  it  has 
no  mind  back  of  it." 

Mother  smiled  with  satisfaction,  for  she  saw  that  he  still  stood 
just  where  she  did,  only  his  horizon  had  widened. 

"  Well,"  said  his  father,  contentedly,  "  I  read  much  in  the 
papers  and  magazines  of  theories  and  isms  of  which  I  never 
heard  when  I  was  young,  but  eighty  years  of  experience  have 
convinced  me  that  the  Lord  reigns." 

They  all  laughed  at  this  customary  settlement  of  knotty 
problems  on  the  part  of  the  old  gentleman,  and  Burt,  rising 
from  the  table,  looked  out,  with  the  remark  that  the  prospects 
were  that  "  the  Lord  would  rain  heavily  that  afternoon."  The 
oldest  and  most  infallible  weather-prophet  in  the  region  — 
Storm  King  —  was  certainly  giving  portentous  indications  of  a 
storm  of  no  ordinary  dimensions.  The  vapor  was  pouring  over 
its  summit  in  Niagara-like  volume,  and  the  wind,  no  longer 
rushing  with  its  recent  boisterous  roar,  was  moaning  and  sighing 
as  if  nature  was  in  pain  and  trouble.  The  barometer,  which 
•  had  been  low  for  two  days,  sank  lower ;  the  temperature  rose 
as  the  gale  veered  to  the  eastward.  This  fact,  and  the  moisture- 
laden  atmosphere,  indicated  that  it  came  from  the  Gulf  Stream 
region  of  the  Atlantic.  The  rain,  which  began  with  a  fine 
drizzle,  increased  fast,  and  soon  fell  in  blinding  sheets.  The 
day  grew  dusky  early,  and  the  twilight  was  brief  and  obscure  ; 
then  followed  a  long  night  of  Egyptian  darkness,  through  which 
the  storm  rushed,  warred,  and  splashed  with  increasing  vehe- 
mence. Before  the  evening  was  over,  the  sound  of  tumultu- 
ously  flowing  water  became  an  appreciable  element  in  the 
uproar  without,  and  Webb,  opening  a  window  on  the  sheltered 


.152  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

side  of  the  house,  called  Amy  to  hear  the  torrents  pouring  down 
the  sides  of  Storm  King. 

"What  tremendous  alternations  of  mood  Nature  indulges 
in  !  "  she  said,  as  she  came  shivering  back  to  the  fire.  "  Con- 
trast such  a  night  with  a  sunny  June  day." 

"  It  would  seem  as  if  '  mild,  ethereal  spring '  had  got  her 
back  up,"  Burt  remarked,  "  and  regarding  the  return  of  winter 
as  a  trespass,  had  taken  him  by  the  throat,  determined  to  have 
it  out  once  for  all.  Something  will  give  way  before  morning, 
probably  half  our  bridges." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  way  of  explaining  the  jar  among  the  elements 
that  I  had  not  thought  of,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  You  needn't  think  Webb  can  do  all  the  explaining.  I  have 
my  theories  also  —  sounder  than  his,  too,  most  of  'em."" 

"  There  is  surely  no  lack  of  sound  accompanying  your  theory 
to-night.  Indeed,  it  is  not  all  '  sound  and  fury  '  !  " 

"It's  all  the. more  impressive,  then.  What's  the  use  of  your 
delicate,  weak-backed  theories  that  require  a  score  of  centuries 
to  substantiate  them?" 

"Your  theory  about  the  bridges  will  soon  be  settled,"  re- 
marked Leonard,  ominously,  "  and  I  fear  it  will  prove  correct. 
At  this  rate  the  town  will  have  to  pay  for  half  a  dozen  new  ones 
—  bridges,  I  mean." 

"  Well  amended,"  added  Webb. 

"  Just  hear  the  rain  !  "  said  Leonard,  ruefully.  There  was  a 
heavy  body  of  snow  still  in  the  mountains  and  on  northern 
slopes,  and  much  ice  on  the  streams  and  ponds.  "  There  cer- 
tainly will  be  no  little  trouble  if  this  continues." 

"  Don't  worry,  children,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  quietly.  "  I 
have  generally  found  everything  standing  after  the  storms  were 


WINTER'S  EXIT.  153. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

WINTER'S  EXIT. 

THE  old  house  seemed  so  full  of  strange  sounds  that  Amy 
found  it  impossible  to  sleep.  Seasoned  as  were  its  tim- 
bers, they  creaked  and  groaned,  and  the  casements  rattled  as 
if  giant  hands  were  seeking  to  open  them.  The  wind  at  times 
would  sigh  and  sob  so  mournfully,  like  a  human  voice,  that  her 
imagination  peopled  the  darkness  with  strange  creatures  in  dis- 
tress, and  then  she  would  shudder  as  a  more  violent  gust  raised 
the  prolonged  wail  into  a  loud  shriek.  Thoughts  of  her  dead 
father  —  not  the  resigned,  peaceful  thoughts  which  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  rest  had  brought  of  late  —  came  surging  into  her 
mind.  Her  organization  was  peculiarly  fine  and  especially  sen- 
sitive to  excited  atmospherical  conditions,  and  the  tumult  of 
the  night  raised  in  her  mind  an  irrepressible,  although  unrea- 
soning, panic.  At  last  she  felt  that  she  would  scream  if  she 
remained  alone  any  longer.  She  put  on  her  wrapper,  purposing 
to  ask  Mrs.  Leonard  to  come  and  stay  with  her  for  a  time, 
feeling  assured  that  if  she  could  only  speak  to  some  one,  the 
horrid  spell  of  nervous  fear  would  be  broken.  As  she  stepped 
into  the  hall  she  saw  a  light  gleaming  from  the  open  door  of 
the  sitting-room,  and  in  the  hope  that  some  one  was  still  up, 
she  stole  noiselessly  down  the  stairway  to  a  point  that  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  apartment.  Only  Webb  was  there,  and 
he  sat  quietly  reading  by  the  shaded  lamp  and  flickering  fire. 
The  scene  and  his  very  attitude  suggested  calmness  and  safety. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  and  he  was  not  afraid.  With 


.154  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

every  moment  that  she  watched  him  the  nervous  agitation  passed 
from  mind  and  body.  His  strong,  intent  profile  proved  that 
he  was  occupied  wholly  with  the  thought  of  his  author.  The 
quiet  deliberation  with  which  he  turned  the  leaves  was  more 
potent  than  soothing  words.  "  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have 
him  know  I'm  so  weak  and  foolish,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
crept  noiselessly  back  to  her  room.  "  He  little  dreamed  who 
was  watching  him,"  she  whispered,  smilingly,  as  she  dropped 
asleep. 

When  she  waked  next  morning  the  rain  had  ceased,  the  wind 
blew  in  fitful  gusts,  and  the  sky  was  still  covered  with  wildly 
hurrying  clouds  that  seemed  like  the  straggling  rear-guard 
which  the  storm  had  left  behind.  So  far  as  she  could  see  from 
her  window,  everything  was  still  standing,  as  Mr.  Clifford  had 
said.  Familiar  objects  greeted  her  re-assuringly,  and  never 
before  had  the  light  even  of  a  lowering  morning  seemed  more 
blessed  in  contrast  with  the  black,  black  night.  As  she  recalled 
the  incidents  of  that  night  —  her  nervous  panic,  and  the  scene 
which  had  brought  quiet  and  peace  —  she  smiled  again,  and,  it 
must  be  admitted,  blushed  slightly.  "  I  wonder  if  he  affects 
others  as  he  does  me,"  she  thought.  "  Papa  used  to  say,  when 
I  was  a  little  thing,  that  I  was  just  a  bundle  of  nerves,  but  when 
Webb  is  near  I  am  not  conscious  I  ever  had  a  nerve." 

Every  little  brook  had  become  a  torrent ;  Moodna  Creek 
was  reported  to  be  in  angry  mood,  and  the  family  hastened 
through  breakfast  that  they  might  drive  out  to  see  the  floods 
and  the  possible  devastation.  Several  bridges  over  the  smaller 
streams  had  barely  escaped,  and  the  Idlewild  brook,  whose 
spring  and  summer  music  the  poet  Willis  had  caused  to  be 
heard  even  in  other  lands,  now  gave  forth  a  hoarse  roar  from 
the  deep  glen  through  which  it  raved.  An  iron  bridge  over  the 
Moodna,  on  the  depot  road,  had  evidently  been  in  danger  in 
the  night.  The  ice  had  been  piled  up  in  the  road  at  each  end 
of  the  bridge,  and  a  cottage  a  little  above  it  was  surrounded  by 
huge  cakes.  The  inmates  had  realized  their  danger,  for  part 


WINTER'S  EXIT.  155 

of  their  furniture  had  been  carried  to  higher  ground.  Although 
the  volume  of  water  passing  was  still  immense,  all  danger  was 
now  over.  As  they  were  looking  at  the  evidences  of  the  vio- 
lent breaking  up  of  winter,  the  first  phoebe-bird  of  the  season 
alighted  in  a  tree  overhanging  the  torrent,  and  in  her  plaintive 
notes  seemed  to  say,  as  interpreted  by  John  Burroughs, "  If  you 
please,  spring  has  come."  They  gave  the  brown  little  harbinger 
such  an  enthusiastic  welcome  that  she  speedily  took  flight  to 
the  farther  shore. 

"Where  was  that  wee  bit  of  life  last  night?  ".said  Webb; 
"  and  how  could  it  keep  up  heart?  " 

"  Possibly  it  looked  in  at  a  window  and  saw  some  one  read- 
ing," thought  Amy ;  and  she  smiled  so  sweetly  at  the  conceit 
that  Webb  asked,  "  How  many  pennies  will  you  take  for  your 
thoughts?" 

"They  are  not  in  the  market;  "  and  she  laughed  outright  as 
she  turned  away. 

"  The  true  place  to  witness  the  flood  will  be  at  the  old  red 
bridge  farther  down  the  stream,"  said  Leonard  ;  and  they  drove 
as  rapidly  as  the  bad  wheeling  permitted  to  that  point,  and 
found  that  Leonard  was  right.  Just  above  the  bridge  was  a 
stone  dam,  by  which  the  water  was  backed  up  a  long  distance, 
and  a  precipitous  wooded  bank  rose  on  the  south  side.  This 
had  shielded  the  ice  from  the  sun,  and  it  was  still  very  thick 
when  the  pressure  of  the  flood  came  upon  it.  Up  to  this  time 
it  had  not  given  way,  and  had  become  the  cause  of  an  ice- 
gorge  that  every  moment  grew  more  threatening.  The  impeded 
torrent  chafed  and  ground  the  cakes  together,  surging  them  up 
at  one  point  and  permitting  them  to  sink  at  another,  as  the  im- 
prisoned waters  struggled  for  an  outlet.  The  solid  ice  still  held 
near  the  edge  of  the  dam,  although  it  was  beginning  to  lift  and 
crack  with  the  tawny  flood  pouring  over,  under,  and  around  it. 

"  Suppose  we  cross  to  the  other  side,  nearest  home,"  said 
Burt,  who  was  driving ;  and  with  the  word  he  whipped  up  the 
horses  and  dashed  through  the  old  covered  structure. 


156  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  done  that,  Burt,"  said  Webb,  almost 
sternly.  "  The  gorge  may  give  way  at  any  moment,  and  the 
bridge  will  probably  go  with  it.  We  shall  now  have  to  drive 
several  hundred  yards  to  a  safe  place  to  leave  the  horses,  for 
the  low  ground  on  this  side  will  probably  be  flooded." 

"  It  certainly  will  be,"  added  Leonard. 

"  Oh,  make  haste  ! "  cried  Amy ;  and  they  all  noticed  that 
she  was  trembling. 

But  a  few  minutes  sufficed  to  tie  the  horses  and  return  to  a 
point  of  safety  near  the  bridge.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  expose 
you  to  the  slightest  danger,"  Burt  whispered,  tenderly,  to  Amy. 
"  See,  the  bridge  is  safe  enough,  and  we  might  drive  over  it 
again." 

Even  as  he  spoke  there  was  a  long  grinding,  crunching  sound. 
A  great  volume  of  black  water  had  forced  its  way  under  the 
gorge,  and  now  lifted  it  bodily  over  the  dam.  It  sank  in  a 
chaotic  mass,  surged  onward  and  upward  again,  struck  the 
bridge,  and  in  a  moment  lifted  it  from  its  foundations  and 
swept  it  away,  a  shattered  wreck,  the  red  covering  showing  in 
the  distance  like  ensanguined  stains  among  the  tossing  cakes 
of  ice. 

They  all  drew  a  long  breath,  and  Amy  was  as  pale  as  if  she 
had  witnessed  the  destruction  of  some  living  creature.  No 
doubt  she  realized  what  would  have  been  their  fate  had  the 
break  occurred  while  they  were  crossing. 

"  Good-by,  old  bridge,"  said  Leonard,  pensively.  "  I  played 
and  fished  under  you  when  a  boy,  and  in  the  friendly  dusk  of 
its  cover  I  kissed  Maggie  one  summer  afternoon  of  our  court- 
ing days  —  " 

"  Well,  well,"  exclaimed  Burt,  "  the  old  bridge's  exit  has  been 
a  moving  object  in  every  sense,  since  it  has  evoked  such  a  flood 
of  sentiment  from  Len.  Let  us  take  him  home  to  Maggie  at 
once." 

As  they  were  about  to  depart  they  saw  Dr.  Marvin  driving 
down  to  the  opposite  side,  and  they  mockingly  beckoned  him 


WINTER'S  EXIT. 


157 


to  cross  the  raging  torrent.  He  shook  his  head  ruefully,  and 
returned  up  the  hill  again.  A  rapid  drive  through  the  Moodna 
Valley  brought  them  to  the  second  bridge,  which  would  evi- 
dently escape,  for  the  flats  above  it  were  covered  with  debris 
and  ice,  and  the  main  channel  was  sufficiently  clear  to  permit 
the  flood  to  pass  harmlessly  on.  They  then  took  the  river  road 
homeward. 


THE   SWAMP   CABBAGE    FLOWER. 

The  bridge  over  the  Idlewild  brook,  near  its  entrance  into 
the  Moodna,  was  safe,  although  it  had  a  narrow  graze.  They 
also  found  that  the  ice  in  the  river  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek 
had  been  broken  up  in  a  wide  semicircle,  and  as  they  ascended 
a  hill  that  commanded  an  extensive  view  of  Newburgh  Bay  they 
saw  that  the  ice  remaining  had  a  black,  sodden  appearance. 

"  It  will  all  break  up  in  a  few  hours,"  said  Burt,  "  and  then 
hurrah  for  duck-shooting  !  " 

Although  spring  had  made  such  a  desperate  onset  the  pre- 
vious night,  it  seemed  to  have  gained  but  a  partial  advantage 


158  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

over  winter.  The  weather  continued  raw  and  blustering  for 
several  days,  and  the  overcast  sky  permitted  but  chance  and 
watery  gleams  of  sunshine.  Slush  and  mud  completed  the 
ideal  of  the  worst  phase  of  March.  The  surface  of  the  earth 
had  apparently  returned  to  that  period  before  the  dry  land  was 
made  to  appear.  As  the  frost  came  out  of  the  open  spaces  of 
the  garden,  ploughed  fields,  and  even  the  country  roads,  they 
became  quagmires  in  which  one  sank  indefinitely.  Seeing  the 
vast  advantage  afforded  to  the  men-folk  by  rubber  boots,  Amy 
provided  herself  with  a  pair,  and  with  something  of  the  exul- 
tation of  the  ancient  Hebrews  passed  dry-shod  through  the 
general  moisture. 


A   ROYAL  CAPTIVE.  159 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A    ROYAL    CAPTIVE. 

IN  the  midst  of  this  dreary  transition  period  Nature  gave 
proof  that  she  has  unlimited  materials  of  beauty  at  her 
command  at  any  time.  Early  one  afternoon  the  brothers  were 
driven  in  from  their  out-door  labors  by  a  cold,  sleety  rain,  and 
Leonard  predicted  an  ice-storm.  The  next  morning  the  world 
appeared  as  if  heavily  plated  with  silver.  The  sun  at  last  was 
unclouded,  and  as  he  looked  over  the  top  of  Storm  King  his 
long-missed  beams  transformed  the  landscape  into  a  scene  of 
wonder  and  beauty  beyond  anything  described  in  Johnnie's 
fairy  tales.  Trees,  shrubs,  the  roofs  and  sidings  of  the  build- 
ings, the  wooden  and  even  the  stone  fences,  the  spires  of  dead 
grass,  and  the  unsightly  skeletons  of  weeds,  were  all  incased 
in  ice  and  touched  by  the  magic  wand  of  beauty.  The  moun- 
tain-tops, however,  surpassed  all  other  objects  in  the  transfig- 
ured world,  for  upon  them  a  heavy  mist  had  rested  and  frozen, 
clothing  every  branch  and  spray  with  a  feathery  frost-work  of 
crystals,  which,  in  the  sun-lighted  distance,  was  like  a  great  shock 
of  silver  hair.  There  were  drawbacks,  however,  to  this  mar- 
vellous scene.  There  were  not  a  few  branches  already  broken 
from  the  trees,  and  Mr.  Clifford  said  that  if  the  wind  rose  the 
weight  of  the  ice  would  cause  great  destruction.  They  all 
hastened  through  breakfast,  Leonard  and  Webb  that  they  might 
relieve  the  more  valuable  fruit  and  evergreen  trees  of  the  weight 
of  ice,  and  Burt  and  Amy  for  a  drive  up  the  mountain. 

As  they  slowly  ascended,  the  scene  under  the  increasing  sun- 


160  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

light  took  on  every  moment  more  strange  and  magical  effects. 
The  ice-incased  twigs  and  boughs  acted  as  prisms,  and  reflected 
every  hue  of  the  rainbow,  and  as  they  approached  the  summit 
the  feathery  frost-work  grew  more  and  more  exquisitely  delicate 
and  beautiful,  and  yet  it  was  proving  to  be  as  evanescent  as  a 
dream,  for  in  all  sunny  places  it  was  already  vanishing.  They 
had  scarcely  passed  beyond  the"  second  summit  when  Burt 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  regretful  disgust.  "  By  all  that's 
unlucky,"  he  cried,  "  if  there  isn't  an  eagle  sitting  on  yonder 
ledge  !  I  could  kill  him  with  bird-shot,  and  I  haven't  even  a 
popgun  with  me." 

"  It's  too  bad,"  sympathized  Amy.  "  Let  us  drive  as  near  as 
we  can,  and  get  a  good  view  before  he  flies." 

To  their  great  surprise,  he  did  not  move  as  they  approached, 
but  only  glared  at  them  with  Ms  savage  eye. 

"Well,"  said  Burt,  "after  trying  for  hours  to  get  within  rifle 
range,  this  exceeds  anything  I  ever  saw.  I  wonder  if  he  is 
wounded  and  cannot  fly."  Suddenly  he  sprang  out,  and  took 
a  strap  from  the  harness.  "  Hold  the  horse,  Amy.  I  think  I 
know  what  is  the  trouble  with  his  majesty,  and  we  may  be  able 
to  return  with  a  royal  captive." 

He  drew  near  the  eagle  slowly  and  warily,  and  soon  perceived 
that  he  was  incased  in  ice  from  head  to  foot,  and  only  retained 
the  power  of  slightly  moving  his  head.  The  creature  was  com- 
pletely helpless,  and  must  remain  so  until  his  icy  fetters  thawed 
out.  His  wings  were  frozen  to  his  sides,  his  legs  covered  with 
ice,  as  were  also  his  talons,  and  the  dead  branch  of  a  low  pine 
on  which  he  had  perched  hours  before.  Icicles  hung  around 
him,  making  a  most  fantastic  fringe.  Only  his  defiant  eye  and 
open  beak  could  give  expression  to  his  untamed,  undaunted 
spirit.  It  was  evident  that  the  bird  made  a  fierce  internal 
struggle  to  escape,  but  was  held  as  in  a  vise. 

Burt  was  so  elated  that  his  hand  trembled  with  eagerness ; 
but  he  resolved  to  act  prudently,  and  grasping  the  bird  firmly 
but  gently  by  the  neck,  he  succeeded  in  severing  the  branch 


A   ROYAL   CAPTIl'l-:.  161 

upon  which  the  eagle  was  perched,  for  it  was  his  purpose  to 
exhibit  the  bird  just  as  he  had  found  him.  Having  carefully 
carried  his  prize  to  the  buggy,  he  induced  Amy,  who  viewed 
the  creature  with  mingled  wonder  and  alarm,  to  receive  this 
strange  addition  to  their  number  for  the  homeward  journey. 
He  wrapped  her  so  completely  with  the  carriage  robe  that  the 
eagle  could  not  injure  her  with  his  beak,  and  she  saw  he  could 
no  more  move  in  other  respects  than  a  block  of  ice.  As  an 
additional  precaution,  Burt  passed  the  strap  around  the  bird's 
neck  and  tied  him  to  the  dash-board.  Even  with  his  heavy 
gloves  he  had  to  act  cautiously,  for  the  eagle  in  his  disabled 
state  could  still  strike  a  powerful  blow.  Then,  with  an  exulta- 
tion beyond  all  words,  he  drove  to  Dr.  Marvin's,  in  order  to 
have  one  of  the  "  loudest  crows  "  over  him  that  he  had  ever 
enjoyed.  The  doctor  did  not  mind  the  "  crow  "  in  the  least, 
but  was  delighted  with  the  adventure  and  capture,  for  the  whole 
affair  had  just  the  flavor  to  please  him.  As  he  was  a  skilful  tax- 
idermist, he  good-naturedly  promised  to  "  set  the  eagle  up  "  on 
the  self-same  branch  on  which  he  had  been  found,  for  it  was 
agreed  that  he  would  prove  too  dangerous  a  pet  to  keep  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  irrepressible  little  Ned.  Indeed,  from  the  look  of 
this  fellow's  eye,  it  was  evident  that  he  would  be  dangerous  to 
any  one.  "  I  will  follow  you  home,  and  after  you  have  exhibited 
him  we  will  kill  him  scientifically.  He  is  a  splendid  specimen, 
and  not  a  feather  need  be  ruffled." 

Burt  drove  around  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Barkdale's  and  some 
others  of  his  nearest  neighbors  and  friends  in  a  sort  of  trium- 
phal progress  ;  but  Amy  grew  uneasy  at  her  close  proximity  to 
so  formidable  a  companion,  fearing  that  he  would  thaw  out. 
Many  were  the  exclamations  of  wonder  and  curiosity  when  they 
reached  home.  Alf  went  nearly  wild,  and  little  Johnnie's  eyes 
overflowed  with  tears  when  she  learned  that  the  regal  bird  must 
die.  As  for  Ned,  had  he  not  been  restrained  he  would  have 
given  the  eagle  a  chance  to  devour  him. 

"  So,  Burt,  you  have  your  eagle  after  all,"  said  his  mother, 


1 62  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

looking  with  more  pleasure  and  interest  on  the  flushed,  eager 
face  of  her  handsome  boy  than  upon  his  captive.  "  Well,  you 
and  Amy  have  had  an  adventure." 

"  I  always  have  good  fortune  and  good  times  when  you  are 
with  me,"  Burt  whispered  in  an  aside  to  Amy. 

"  Always  is  a  long  time,"  she  replied,  turning  away ;  but  he 
was  too  excited  to  note  that  she  did  not  reciprocate  his  manner, 
and  he  was  speedily  engaged  in  a  discussion  as  to  the  best 
method  of  preserving  the  eagle  in  the  most  life-like  attitude. 
After  a  general  family  council  it  was  decided  that  his  future 
perch  should  be  in  a  corner  of  the  parlor,  and  within  a  few 
days  he  occupied  it,  looking  so  natural  that  callers  were  often 
startled  by  his  life-like  appearance. 

"Think  how  his  mate  must  miss  him  !  "  Maggie  would  often 
say,  remorsefully. 

As  the  day  grew  old  the  ice  on  the  trees  melted  and  fell  away 
in  myriads  of  gemlike  drops.  Although  the  sun  shone  brightly, 
there  was  a  sound  without  as  of  rain.  By  four  in  the  afternoon 
the  pageant  was  over,  the  sky  clouded  again,  and  the  typical 
March  outlook  was  re-established. 


SPRING'S  HARBINGERS.  163 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
SPRING'S  HARBINGERS. 

AMY  was  awakened  on  the  following  morning  by  innumer- 
able bird-notes,  not  songs,  but  loud  calls.  Hastening  to 
the  window,  she  witnessed  a  scene  very  strange  to  her  eyes. 
All  over  the  grass  of  the  lawn  and  on  the  ground  of  the  orchard 
beyond  was  a  countless  flock  of  what  seemed  to  her  quarter- 
grown  chickens.  A  moment  later  the  voice  of  Alf  resounded 
through  the  house,  crying,  "  The  robins  have  come  !  "  Very 
soon  nearly  all  the  household  were  on  the  piazza  to  greet  these 
latest  arrivals  from  the  South ;  and  a  pretty  scene  of  life  and 
animation  they  made,  with  their  yellow  bills,  jaunty  black  heads, 
and  brownish  red  breasts. 

"  Titrdus  migraforius,  as  the  doctor  would  say,"  remarked 
Burt ;  "  and  migrants  they  are  with  a  vengeance.  Last  night 
there  was  not  one  to  be  seen,  and  now  here  are  thousands. 
They  are  on  their  way  north,  and  have  merely  alighted  to 
feed." 

"  Isn't  it  odd  how  they  keep  their  distance  from  each  other?" 
said  Webb.  "  You  can  scarcely  see  two  near  together,  but  every 
few  feet  there  is  a  robin,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  Yes,  and 
there  are  some  high-holders  in  the  orchard  also.  They  are 
shyer  than  the  robins,  and  don't  come  so  near  the  house.  You 
can  tell  them,  Amy,  by  their  yellow  bodies  and  brown  wings. 
I  have  read  that  they  usually  migrate  with  the  robins.  I  won- 
der how  far  this  flock  flew  last —  ah,  listen  !  " 

Clear  and  sweet  came  an  exquisite  bird-song  from  an  adjacent 


1 64  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

maple.  Webb  took  off  his  hat  in  respectful  greeting  to  the 
minstrel. 

"  Why,"  cried  Amy,  "  that  little  brown  bird  cannot  be  a 
robin." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  that  is  my  favorite  of  all  the  earliest 
birds  —  the  song-sparrow.  You  remember  what  Dr.  Marvin 
said  about  him  the  other  evening?  I  have  been  looking  for  my 
little  friend  for  a  week  past,  and  here  he  is.  The  great  tide  of 
migration  has  turned  northward." 

"  He  is  my  favorite  too,"  said  his  father.  "  Every  spring  for 
over  seventy  years  I  remember  hearing  his  song,  and  it  is  just 
as  sweet  and  fresh  to  me  as  ever.  Indeed,  it  is  enriched  by  a 
thousand  memories." 

For  two  or  three  days  the  robins  continued  plentiful  around 
the  house,  and  their  loud  "  military  calls,"  as  Burroughs  de- 
scribes them,  were  heard  at  all  hours  from  before  the  dawn 
into  the  dusk  of  night,  but  they  seemed  to  be  too  excited  over 
their  northward  journey  or  their  arrival  at  their  old  haunts  to 
indulge  in  the  leisure  of  song.  They  reminded  one  of  the  ad- 
vent of  an  opera  company.  There  was  incessant  chattering,  a 
flitting  to  and  fro,  bustle  and  excitement,  each  one  having  much 
to  say,  and  no  one  apparently  stopping  to  listen.  The  majority 
undoubtedly  continued  their  migration,  for  the  great  flocks  dis- 
appeared. It  is  said  that  the  birds  that  survive  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  year  return  to  their  former  haunts,  and  it  would  seem 
that  they  drop  out  of  the  general  advance  as  they  reach  the 
locality  of  the  previous  summer's  nest,  to  which  they  are  guided 
by  an  unerring  instinct. 

The  evening  of  the  third  day  after  their  arrival  was  compara- 
tively mild,  and  the  early  twilight  serene  and  quiet.  The  family 
were  just  sitting  down  to  supper  when  they  heard  a  clear,  mel- 
low whistle,  so  resonant  and  penetrating  as  to  arrest  their  at- 
tention although  doors  and  windows  were  closed.  Hastening 
to  the  door  they  saw  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  tallest  elms  a 
robin,  with  his  crimson  breast  lighted  up  by  the  setting  sun, 


SPRING'S  HARBINGERS.  165 

and  his  little  head  lifted  heavenward  in  the  utterance  of  what 
seemed  the  perfection  of  an  evening  hymn.  Indeed,  in  that 
bleak,  dim  March  evening,  with  the  long,  chill  night  fast  falling 
and  the  stormy  weeks  yet  to  come,  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a 
finer  expression  of  hope  and  faith. 

The  robin  is  a  bird  of  contrasts.  Peculiarly  domestic  in  his 
haunts  and  habits,  he  resembles  his  human  neighbors  in  more 
respects  than  one.  He  is  much  taken  up  with  his  material  life, 
and  is  very  fond  of  indulging  his  large  appetite.  He  is  far  from 
being  aesthetic  in  his  house  or  housekeeping,  and  builds  a  strong, 
coarse  nest  of  the  handiest  materials  and  in  the  handiest  place, 
selecting  the  latter  with  a  confidence  in  boy-nature  and  cat- 
nature  that  is  often  misplaced.  He  is  noisy,  bustling,  and  im- 
portant, and  as  ready  to  make  a  raid  on  a  cherry-tree  or  a 
strawberry- bed  as  is  the  average  youth  to  visit  a  melon-patch 
by  moonlight.  He  has  a  careless,  happy-go-lucky  air,  unless 
irritated,  and  then  is  as  eager  for  a  "  square  set-to  "  in  robin 
fashion  as  the  most  approved  scion  of  chivalry.  Like  man,  he 
also  seems  to  have  a  spiritual  element  in  his  nature ;  and,  as  if 
inspired  and  lifted  out  of  his  grosser  self  by  the  dewy  freshness 
of  the  morning  and  the  shadowy  beauty  of  the  evening,  he 
sings  like  a  saint,  and  his  pure,  sweet  notes  would  never  lead 
one  to  suspect  that  he  was  guilty  of  habitual  gormandizing. 
He  settles  down  into  a  good  husband  and  father,  and,  in  brief, 
reminds  one  of  the  sturdy  English  squire  who  is  sincerely  de- 
vout over  his  prayer-book  on  proper  occasions,  and  between 
times  takes  all  the  goods  the  gods  send. 

In  the  morning  little  Johnnie  came  to  the  breakfast-table  in 
a  state  of  great  excitement.  It  soon  appeared  that  she  had  a 
secret  that  she  would  tell  no  one  but  Amy  —  indeed,  she  would 
not  tell  it,  but  show  it ;  and  after  breakfast  she  told  Amy  to  put 
on  her  rubber  boots  and  come  with  her,  warning  curious  Alf 
meanwhile  to  keep  his  distance.  Leading  the  way  to  a  sunny 
angle  in  the  garden  fence,  she  showed  Amy  the  first  flower  of 
the  year.  Although  it  was  a  warm,  sunny  spot,  the  snow  had 


1 66  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

drifted  there  to  such  an  extent  that  the  icy  base  of  the  drift 
still  partially  covered  the  ground,  and  through  a  weak  place  in 
the  melting  ice  a  snow-drop  had  pushed  its  green,  succulent 
leaves  and  hung  out  its  modest  little  blossom.  The  child, 
brought  up  from  infancy  to  feel  the  closest  sympathy  with 
nature,  fairly  trembled  with  delight  over  this  avant-coitreur  of 
the  innumerable  flowers  which  it  was  her  chief  happiness  to 
gather.  As  if  in  sympathy  with  the  exultation  of  the  child,  and 
in  appreciation  of  all  that  the  pale  little  blossom  foreshadowed, 
a  song-sparrow  near  trilled  out  its  sweetest  lay,  a  robin  took  up 
the  song,  and  a  pair  of  bluebirds  passed  overhead  with  their 
undulating  flight  and  soft  warble.  Truly  spring  had  come  in 
that  nook  of  the  old  garden,  even  though  the  mountains  were 
still  covered  with  snow,  the  river  was  full  of  floating  ice,  and 
the  wind  chill  with  the  breath  of  winter.  Could  there  have 
been  a  fairer  or  more  fitting  committee  of  reception  than  little 
Johnnie,  believing  in  all  things,  hoping  all  things,  and  brown- 
haired,  hazel-eyed  Amy,  with  the  first  awakenings  of  woman- 
hood in  her  heart? 


FIRST  TIMES."  167 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"  FIRST    TIMES." 

T  last  Nature  was  truly  awakening,  and  color  was  coming 
into  her  pallid  face.  On  every  side  were  increasing  move- 
ment and  evidences  of  life.  Sunny  hillsides  were  free  from 
snow,  and  the  oozing  frost  loosed  the  hold  of  stones  upon  the 
soil  or  the  clay  of  precipitous  banks,  leaving  them  to  the  play 
of  gravitation.  Will  the  world  become  level  if  there  are  no 
more  upheavals?  The  ice  of  the  upper  Hudson  was  journey- 
ing towards  the  sea  that  it  would  never  reach.  The  sun  smote 
it,  the  high  winds  ground  the  honey-combed  cakes  together, 
and  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide  permitted  no  pause  in  the 
work  of  disintegration.  By  the  middle  of  March  the  blue 
water  predominated,  and  adventurous  steamers  had  already 
picked  and  pounded  their  way  to  and  from  the  city. 

Only  those  deeply  enamoured  of  Nature  feel  much  enthusi- 
asm for  the  first  month  of  spring;  but  for  them  this  season 
possesses  a  peculiar  fascination.  The  beauty  that  has  been  so 
cold  and  repellent  is  relenting  —  yielding,  seemingly  against 
her  will,  to  a  wooing  that  cannot  be  repulsed  by  even  her  harsh- 
est moods.  To  the  vigilance  of  love,  sudden,  unexpected 
smiles  are  granted ;  and  though,  as  if  these  were  regretted,  the 
frown  quickly  returns,  it  is  often  less  forbidding.  It  is  a  period 
full  of  delicious,  soul- thrilling  "  first  times,"  the  coy,  exquisite 
beginnings  of  that  final  abandonment  to  her  suitor  in  the  sky. 
Although  she  veils  her  face  for  days  with  clouds,  and  again  and 
again  greets  him  in  the  dawn,  wrapped  in  her  old  icy  reserve, 


1 68  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

he  smiles  back  his  answer,  and  she  cannot  resist.  Indeed, 
there  soon  come  warm,  still,  bright  days  whereon  she  feels  her- 
self going,  but  does  not  even  protest.  Then,  as  if  suddenly 
conscious  of  lost  ground,  she  makes  a  passionate  effort  to  re- 
gain her  wintry  aspect.  It  is  so.  passionate  as  to  betray  her,  so 
stormy  as  to  insure  a  profounder  relenting,  a  warmer,  more 
tearful,  and  penitent  smile  after  her  wild  mood  is  over.  She 
finds  that  she  cannot  return  to  her  former  sustained  coldness, 
and  so  at  last  surrenders,  and  the  frost  passes  wholly  from  her 
heart. 

To  Alf 's  and  Johnnie's  delight  it  so  happened  that  one  of 
these  gentlest  moods  of  early  spring  occurred  on  Saturday  — 
that  weekly  millennium  of  school-children.  With  plans  and 
preparations  matured,  they  had  risen  with  the  sun,  and,  scam- 
pering back  and  forth  over  the  frozen  ground  and  the  remaining 
patches  of  ice  and  snow,  had  carried  every  pail  and  pan  that 
they  could  coax  from  their  mother  to  a  rocky  hillside  whereon 
clustered  a  few  sugar-maples.  Webb,  the  evening  before,  had 
inserted  into  the  sunny  sides  of  the  trees  little  wooden  troughs, 
and  from  these  the  tinkling  drip  of  the  sap  made  a  music 
sweeter  than  that  of  the  robins  to  the  eager  boy  and  girl. 

At  the  breakfast-table  each  one  was  expatiating  on  the  rare 
promise  of  the  day.  Even  Mrs.  Clifford,  awakened  by  the 
half-subdued  clatter  of  the  children,  had  seen  the  brilliant, 
rose-tinted  dawn. 

"The  day  cannot  be  more  beautiful  than  was  the  night," 
Webb  remarked.  "  A  little  after  midnight  I  was  awakened  by 
a  clamor  from  the  poultry,  and  suspecting  either  two  or  four 
footed  thieves,  I  was  soon  covering  the 'hennery  with  my  gun. 
As  a  result,  Sir  Mephitis,  as  Burroughs  calls  him,  lies  stark  and 
stiff  near  the  door.  After  watching  awhile,  and  finding  no 
other  marauders  abroad,  I  became  aware  that  it  was  one  of  the 
most  perfect  nights  I  had  ever  seen.  It  was  hard  to  imagine 
that,  a  few  hours  before,  a  gale  had  been  blowing  under  a  cloudy 
sky.  The  moonlight  was  so  clear  that  I  could  see  to  read  dis- 


"FIRST  TIMES."  169 

tinctly.  So  attractive  and  still  was  the  night  that  I  started  for 
an  hour's  walk  up  the  boulevard,  and  when  near  Idlewild  brook 
had  the  fortune  to  empty  the  other  barrel  of  my  gun  into  a 
great  horned  owl.  How  the  echoes  resounded  in  the  quiet 
night !  The  changes  in  April  are  more  rapid,  but  they  are  on 
a  grander  scale  this  month." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  laughed  Burt,  "  that  your  range  of  topics 
is  even  more  sublime.  From  Sir  Mephitis  to  romantic  moon- 
light and  lofty  musings,  no  doubt,  which  ended  with  a  screech- 
owl." 

"The  great  horned  is  not  a  screech-owl,  as  you  ought  to 
know.  Well,  Nature  is  to  blame  for  my  alternations.  I  only 
took  the  goods  the  gods  sent." 

"I  hope  you  did  not  take  cold,"  said  Maggie.  "The  idea 
of  prowling  around  at  that  time  of  night !  " 

"  Webb  was  in  hopes  that  Nature  might  bestow  upon  him 
some  confidences  by  moonlight  that  he  could  not  coax  from 
her  in  broad  day.  I  shall  seek  better  game  than  you  found. 
Ducks  are  becoming  plenty  in  the  river,  and  all  the  conditions 
are  favorable  for  a  crack  at  them  this  morning.  So  I  shall 
paddle  out  with  a  white  coat  over  my  clothes,  and  pretend  to 
be  a  cake  of  ice.  If  I  bring  you  a  canvas-back,  Amy,  will  you 
put  the  wishbone  over  the  door?" 

"  Not  till  I  have  locked  it  and  hidden  the  key." 

Without  any  pre-arranged  purpose  the  day  promised  to  be 
given  up  largely  to  country  sport.  Burt  had  taken  a  lunch,  and 
would  not  return  until  night,  while  the  increasing  warmth  and 
brilliancy  of  the  sunshine,  and  the  children's  voices  from  the 
maple  grove,  soon  lured  Amy  to  the  piazza. 
.  "  Come,"  cried  Webb,  who  emerged  from  the  wood-house 
with  an  axe  on  his  shoulder,  "  don  rubber  boots  and  wraps,  and 
we'll  improvise  a  maple-sugar  camp  of  the  New  England  style  a 
hundred  years  ago.  We  should  make  the  most  of  a  day  like  this." 

They  soon  joined  the  children  on  the  hillside,  whither  Abram 
had  already  carried  a  capacious  iron  pot  as  black  as  himself. 


1 70  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

On  a  little  terrace  that  was  warm  and  bare  of  snow,  Webb  set 
up  cross-sticks  in  gypsy  fashion,  and  then  with  a  chain  sus- 
pended the  pot,  the  children  dancing  like  witches  around  it. 
Mr.  Clifford  and  little  Ned  now  appeared,  the  latter  joining  in 
the  eager  quest  for  dry  sticks.  Not  far  away  was  a  large  tree 
that  for  several  years  had  been  slowly  dying,  its  few  living 
branches  having  flushed  early  in  September,  in  their  last  glow, 
which  had  been  premature  and  hectic.  Dry  sticks  would  make 
little  impression  on  the  sap  that  now  in  the  warmer  light 
dropped  faster  from  the  wounded  maples,  and  therefore  to 
supply  the  intense  heat  that  should  give  them  at  least  a  rich 
syrup  before  nigh",  Webb  threw  off  his  coat  and  attacked  the 
defunct  veteran  of  the  grove.  Amy  watched  his  vigorous 
strokes  with  growing  zest ;  and  he,  conscious  of  her  eyes,  struck 
strong  and  true.  Leonard,  not  far  away,  was  removing  impedi- 
ments from  the  courses,  thus  securing  a  more  rapid  flow  of  the 
water  and  promoting  the  drainage  of  the  land.  He  had  sent 
up  his  cheery  voice  from  time  to  time,  but  now  joined  the 
group,  to  witness  the  fall  of  a  tree  that  had  been  old  when  he 
had  played  near  it  like  his  own  children  to-day.  The  echoes 
of  the  ringing  axe  came  back  to  them  from  an  adjacent  hillside  ; 
a  squirrel  barked  and  "  snickered,"  as  if  he  too  were  a  party  to 
the  fun ;  crows  overhead  cawed  a  protest  at  the  destruction  of 
their  ancient  perch  ;  but  with  steady  and  remorseless  stroke  the 
axe  was  driven  through  the  concentric  rings  on  either  side  into 
the  tree's  dead  heart.  At  last,  as  fibre  after  fibre  was  cut  away, 
it  began  to  tremble.  The  children  stood  breathless  and  almost 
pitying  as  they  saw  the  shiver,  apparently  conscious,  which  fol- 
lowed each  blow.  Something  of  the  same  callousness  of  cus- 
tom with  which  the  fall  of  a  man  is  witnessed  must  blunt  one's 
nature  before  he  can  look  unmoved  upon  the  destruction  of  a 
familiar  tree. 

As  the  dead  maple  trembled  more  and  more  violently,  and  at 
last  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  breathless  air,  Amy  cried,  "  Webb  ! 
Webb  !  come  away  !  " 


"  FIRST  TIMES."11  171 

She  had  hardly  spoken  when,  with  a  slow  and  stately  motion, 
the  lofty  head  bowed ;  there  was  a  rush  through  the  air,  an 
echoing  crash  upon  the  rocks.  She  sprang  forward  with  a  slight 
cry,  but  Webb,  leaning  his  axe  on  the  prostrate  bole,  looked 
smilingly  at  her,  and  said,  "  Why,  Amy,  there  is  no  more  danger 
in  this  work  than  in  cutting  a  stalk  of  corn,  if  one  knows  how." 

"  There  appears  to  be  more,"  she  replied.  "  I  never  saw  a 
large  tree  cut  down  before,  but  have  certainly  read  of  people 
being  crushed.  Does  it  often  happen?" 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  By  the  way,  Amy,"  said  Leonard,  "  the  wood-chopper  that 
you  visited  with  me  is  doing  so  well  that  we  shall  give  him  work 
on  the  farm  this  summer.  There  was  a  little  wheat  in  all  that 
chaff  of  a  man,  and  it's  beginning  to  grow.  But  the  wife  is  a 
case.  He  says  he  would  like  to  work  where  he  can  see  you 
occasionally." 

"  I  have  been  there  twice  with  Webb  since,  and  shall  go 
oftener  when  the  roads  are  better,"  she  replied,  simply. 

"That's  right,  Amy;  follow  up  a  thing,"  said  Mr.  Clifford. 
"  It's  better  to  help  one  family  than  to  try  to  help  a  dozen. 
That  was  a  good  clean  cut,  Webb,"  he  added,  examining  the 
stump.  "  I  dislike  to  see  a  tree  haggled  down." 

"  How  strong  you  are,  Webb  !  "  said  Amy.  "  I  suppose  that 
if  you  had  lived  a  few  hundred  years  ago  you  would  have  been 
hacking  at  people  in  the  same  way." 

"  And  so  might  have  been  a  hero,  and  won  your  admiration 
if  you  had  lived  then  in  some  gray  castle,  with  the  floor  of  your 
bower  strewn  with  rushes.  Now  there  is  no  career  for  me  but 
that  of  a  plain  farmer." 

"What  manly  task  was  given  long  before  knighthood,  eh, 
Webb?  Right  royal  was  the  commission,  too.  Was  it  not  to 
subdue  the  earth  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  striving  after 
the  higher  mastery,  one  into  which  you  can  put  all  your  mind 
as  well  as  muscle.  Knocking  people  on  the  head  wasn't  a  very 
high  art." 


1/2  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"What !  not  in  behalf  of  a  distressed  damsel?" 

"  I  imagine  there  will  always  be  distressed  damsels  in  the 
world.  Indeed,  in  fiction  it  would  seem  that  many  would  be 
nothing  if  not  distressed.  You  can  surely  find  one,  Webb,  and 
so  be  a  knight  in  spite  of  our  prosaic  times." 

"  I  shall  not  try,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  I  am  content  to 
be  a  farmer,  and  am  glad  you  do  not  think  our  work  is  coarse 
and  common.  You  obtained  some  good  ideas  in  England, 
Amy.  The  tastes  of  the  average  American  girl  incline  too 
much  towards  the  manhood  of  the  shop  and  office.  There, 
Len,  I  am  rested  now ; "  and  he  took  the  axe  from  his  brother, 
who  had  been  lopping  the  branches  from  the  prostrate  tree. 

Amy  again  watched  his  athletic  figure  with  pleasure  as  he 
rapidly  prepared  billets  for  the  seething  caldron  of  sap. 

The  day  was  indeed  forming  an  illuminated  page.  The  blue 
of  the  sky  seemed  intense  after  so  many  gray  and  steel-hued 
days,  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  cloud.  The  flowing  sap  was 
not  sweeter  than  the  air,  to  which  the  brilliant  sunlight  imparted 
an  exhilarating  warmth  far  removed  from  sultriness.  From  the 
hillside  came  the  woody  odor  of  decaying  leaves,  and  from  the 
adjacent  meadow  the  delicate  perfume  of  grasses  whose  roots 
began  to  tingle  with  life  the  moment  the  iron  grip  of  the  frost 
relaxed.  Sitting  on  a  rock  near  the  crackling  fire,  Amy  made 
as  fair  a  gypsy  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  On  every  side  were 
evidences  that  spring  was  taking  possession  of  the  land.  In 
the  hollows  of  the  meadow  at  her  feet  were  glassy  pools,  kept 
from  sinking  away  by  a  substratum  of  frost,  and  among  these 
migratory  robins  and  high-holders  were  feeding.  The  brook 
beyond  was  running  full  from  the  melting  of  the  snow  in  the 
mountains,  and  its  hoarse  murmur  was  the  bass  in  the  musical 
babble  and  tinkle  of  smaller  rills  hastening  towards  it  on  either 
side.  Thus  in  all  directions  the  scene  was  lighted  up  with  the 
glint  and  sparkle  of  water.  The  rays  of  the  sun  idealized  even 
the  muddy  road,  of  which  a  glimpse  was  caught,  for  the  pasty 
clay  glistened  like  the  surface  of  a  stream.  The  returning  birds 


"FfRST  TIMES."  173 

appeared  as  jubilant  over  the  day  as  the  children  whose  voices 
blended  with  their  songs  —  as  do  all  the  sounds  that  are  abso- 
lutely natural.  The  migratory  tide  of  robins,  song-sparrows, 
phcebes,  and  other  early  birds  was  still  moving  northward ;  but 
multitudes  had  dropped  out  of  line,  having  reached  their  haunts 
of  the  previous  year.  The  sunny  hillside  and  its  immediate 
vicinity  seemed  a  favorite  lounging-place  both  for  the  birds 
of  passage  and  for  those  already  at  home.  The  excitement  of 
travel  to  some,  and  the  delight  at  having  regained  the  scene 
of  last  year's  love  and  nesting  to  others,  added  to  the  universal 
joy  of  spring,  so  exhilarated  their  hearts  that  they  could  scarcely 
be  still  a  moment.  Although  the  sun  was  approaching  the 
zenith,  there  was  not  the  comparative  silence  that  pervades  a 
summer  noon.  Bird  calls  resounded  everywhere  ;  there  was  a 
constant  flutter  of  wings,  as  if  all  were  bent  upon  making  or 
renewing  acquaintance  —  an  occupation  frequently  interrupted 
by  transports  of  song. 

"Do  you  suppose  they  really  recognize  each  other?"  Amy 
asked  Webb,  as  he  threw  down  an  armful  of  wood  near  her. 

"Dr.  Marvin  would  insist  that  they  do,"  he  replied,  laugh- 
ing. "  When  with  him,  one  must  be  wary  in  denying  to  the 
birds  any  of  the  virtues  and  powers.  He  would  probably  say 
that  they  understood  each  other  as  well  as  we  do.  They  cer- 
tainly seem  to  be  comparing  notes,  in  one  sense  of  the  word 
at  least.  Listen,  and  you  will  hear  at  this  moment  the  song  of 
bluebird,  robin,  both  song  and  fox  sparrow,  phoebe,  blue  jay, 
high-holder,  and  crow  —  that  is,  if  you  can  call  the  notes  of 
the  last  two  birds  a  song." 

"What  a  lovely  chorus!"  she  cried,  after  a  few  moments' 
pause. 

"Wait  till  two  months  have  passed,  and  you  will  hear  a 
grand  symphony  every  morning  and  evening.  All  the  members 
of  our  summer  opera  troupe  do  not  arrive  till  June,  and  several 
weeks  must  still  pass  before  the  great  star  of  the  season 
appears." 


1/4  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Indeed  !  and  who  is  he,  or  she  ?  " 

"  Both  he  and  she  —  the  wood-thrush  and  his  mate.  They 
are  very  aristocratic  kin  of  these  robins.  A  little  before  them 
will  come  two  other  blood-relations,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brown- 
thrasher,  who,  notwithstanding  their  family  connection  with  the 
high-toned  wood-thrush  and  jolly,  honest  robin,  are  stealthy  in 
their  manner,  and  will  skulk  away  before  you  as  if  ashamed  of 
something.  When  the  musical  fit  is  on  them,  however,  they 
will  sing  openly  from  the  loftiest  tree-top,  and  with  a  sweetness, 
too,  that  few  birds  can  equal." 

"  Why,  Webb,  you  almost  equal  Dr.  Marvin." 

"  Oh  no  ;  I  only  become  acquainted  with  my  favorites.  If 
a  bird  is  rare,  though  commonplace  in  itself,  he  will  pursue  it 
as  if  it  laid  golden  eggs." 

A  howl  from  Ned  proved  that  even  the  brightest  days  and 
scenes  have  their  drawbacks.  The  little  fellow  had  been  prowl- 
ing around  among  the  pails  and  pans,  intent  on  obtaining  a 
drink  of  the  sap,  and  thus  had  put  his  hand  on  a  honey-bee 
seeking  the  first  sweet  of  the  year.  In  an  instant  Webb  reached 
his  side,  and  saw  what  the  trouble  was.  Carrying  him  to  the 
fire,  he  drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and  pressed  its  hollow 
ward  over  the  spot  stung.  This  caused  the  poison  to  work  out. 
Nature's  remedy  —  mud  —  abounded,  and  soon  a  little  moist 
clay  covered  the  wound,  and  Amy  took  him  in  her  arms  and 
tried  to  pacify  him,  while  his  father,  who  had  strolled  away 
with  Mr.  Clifford,  speedily  returned.  The  grandfather  looked 
down  commiseratingly  on  the  sobbing  little  companion  of  his 
earlier  morning  walk,  and  soon  brought,  not  merely  serenity, 
but  joy  unbounded,  by  a  quiet  proposition. 

"  I  will  go  back  to  the  house,"  he  said,  "  and  have  mamma 
put  up  a  nice  lunch,  and  you  and  the  other  children  can  eat 
your  dinner  here  by  the  fire.  So  can  you,  Webb  and  Amy, 
and  then  you  can  look  after  the  youngsters.  It's  warm  and 
dry  here.  Suppose  you  have  a  little  picnic,  which,  in  March, 
will  be  a  thing  to  remember.  Alf,  you  can  come  with  me,  and 


"FfRST  TIMES."  175 

while  mamma  is  preparing  the  lunch  you  can  run  to  the  market 
and  get  some  oysters  and  clams,  and  these,  with  potatoes,  you 
can  roast  in  the  ashes  of  a  smaller  fire,  which  Ned  and  Johnnie 
can  look  after  under  Webb's  superintendence.  Wouldn't  you 
like  my  little  plan,  Amy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  replied,  putting  her  hands  caressingly 
within  his  arm.  ''It's  hard  to  think  you  are  old  when  you 
know  so  well  what  we  young  people  like.  I  didn't  believe  that 
this  day  could  be  brighter  or  jollier,  and  yet  your  plan  has 
made  the  children  half- wild." 

Indeed,  Alf  had  already  given  his  approval  by  tearing  off 
towards  the  house  for  the  materials  of  this  unprecedented 
March  feast  in  the  woods,  and  the  old  gentleman,  as  if  made 
buoyant  by  the  good  promise  of  his  little  project  in  the  chil- 
dren's behalf,  followed  with  a  step  wonderfully  elastic  for  a  man 
of  fourscore. 

"  Well,  Heaven  grant  I  may  attain  an  age  like  that !  "  said 
Webb,  looking  wistfully  after  him.  "  There  is  more  of  spring 
than  autumn  in  father  yet,  and  I  don't  believe  there  will  be  any 
winter  in  his  life.  Well,  Amy,  like  the  birds  and  squirrels 
around  us,  we  shall  dine  out-of-doors  to-day.  You  must  be 
mistress  of  the  banquet ;  Ned,  Johnnie,  and  I  place  ourselves 
under  your  orders  :  don't  we,  Johnnie?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  uncle  Webb ;  only  I'm  so  crazy  over  all  this 
fun  that  I'm  sure  I  can  never  do  anything  straight." 

'•'Well,  then,  'bustle!  bustle!'"  cried  Amy.  "I  believe 
with  Maggie  that  housekeeping  and  dining  well  are  high  arts, 
and  not  humdrum  necessities.  Webb,  I  need  a  broad,  flat  rock. 
Please  provide  one  at  once,  while  Johnnie  gathers  clean  dry 
leaves  for  plates.  You,  Ned,  can  put  lots  of  dry  sticks  between 
the  stones  there,  and  uncle  Webb  will  kindle  the  right  kind  of 
a  fire  to  leave  plenty  of  hot  coals  and  ashes.  Now  is  the  time 
for  him  to  make  his  science  useful." 

Webb  was  becoming  a  mystery  unto  himself.  Was  it  the 
exquisitely  pure  air  and  the  exhilarating  spring  sunshine  that 


1 76  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

sent  the  blood  tingling  through  his  veins  ?  Or  was  it  the  pres- 
ence, tones,  and  gestures  of  a  girl  with  brow  and  neck  like  the 
snow  that  glistened  on  the  mountain  slopes  above  them,  and 
large  true  eyes  that  sometimes  seemed  gray  and  again  blue? 
Amy's  developing  beauty  was  far  removed  from  a  fixed  type  of 
prettiness,  and  he  felt  this  in  a  vague  way.  The  majority  of 
the  girls  of  his  acquaintance  had  a  manner  rather  than  an  in- 
dividuality, and  looked  and  acted  much  the  same  whenever  he 
saw  them.  They  were  conventionalized  after  some  received 
country  type,  and  although  farmers'  daughters,  they  seemed 
unnatural  to  this  lover  of  nature.  Allowing  for  the  difference 
in  years,  Amy  was  as  devoid  of  self-consciousness  as  Alf  or 
Johnnie.  Not  the  slightest  trace  of  mannerism  perverted  her 
girlish  ways.  She  moved,  talked,  and  acted  with  no  more  effort 
or  thought  of  effort  than  had  the  bluebirds  that  were  passing  to 
and  fro  with  their  simple  notes  and  graceful  flight.  She  was 
nature  in  its  phase  of  girlhood.  To  one  of  his  temperament 
and  training  the  perfect  day  itself  would  have  been  full  of 
unalloyed  enjoyment  although  occupied  with  his  ordinary 
labors ;  but  for  some  reason  this  unpremeditated  holiday,  with 
Amy's  companionship,  gave  him  a  pleasure  before  unknown  — 
a  pleasure  deep  and  satisfying,  unmarred  by  jarring  discords 
or  uneasy  protests  of  conscience  or  reason.  Truly,  on  this 
spring  day  a  "  first  time  "  came  to  him,  a  new  element  was 
entering  into  his  life.  He  did  not  think  of  defining  it ;  he  did 
not  even  recognize  it,  except  in  the  old  and  general  way  that 
Amy's  presence  had  enriched  them  all,  and  in  his  own  case  had 
arrested  a  tendency  to  become  materialistic  and  narrow.  On  a 
like  day  the  year  before  he  would  have  been  absorbed  in  the 
occupations  of  the  farm,  and  merely  conscious  to  a  certain 
extent  of  the  sky  above  him  and  the  bird  song  and  beauty 
around  him.  To-day  they  were  like  revelations.  Even  a 
March  world  was  transfigured.  His  zest  in  living  and  working 
was  enhanced  a  thousand-fold,  because  life  and  work  were 
illumined  by  happiness,  as  the  scene  was  brightened  by  sun- 


"FIRST  TIMES:'  177 

shine.  He  felt  that  he  had  only  half  seen  the  world  before ; 
now  he  had  the  joy  of  one  gradually  gaining  vision  after  partial 
blindness. 

Amy  saw  that  he  was  enjoying  the  day  immensely  in  his 
quiet  way ;  she  also  saw  that  she  had  not  a  little  to  do  with  the 
result,  and  the  reflection  that  she  could  please  and  interest  the 
grave  and  thoughtful  man,  who  was  six  years  her  senior,  con- 
veyed a  delicious  sense  of  power.  And  yet  she  was  pleased 
much  as  a  child  would  be.  "  He  knows  so  much  more  than  I 
do,"  she  thought,  "  and  is  usually  so  wrapped  up  in  some  deep 
subject,  or  so  busy,  that  it's  awfully  jolly  to  find  that  one  can 
beguile  him  into  having  such  a  good  time.  Burt  is  so  exuberant 
in  everything  that  I  am  afraid  of  being  carried  away,  as  by  a 
swift  stream,  I  know  not  where.  I  feel  like  checking  and  re- 
straining him  all  the  time.  For  me  to  add  my  small  stock  of 
mirth  to  his  immense  spirits  would  be  like  lighting  a  candle  on 
a  day  like  this  :  but  when  I  smile  on  Webb  the  effect  is  won- 
derful, and  I  can  never  get  over  my  pleased  surprise  at  the 
fact." 

Thus,  like  the  awakening  forces  in  the  soil  around  them,  a 
vital  force  was  developing  in  two  human  hearts  equally  uncon- 
scious. 

Alf  and  his  grandfather  at  last  returned,  each  well  laden,  and 
preparations  went  on  apace.  Mr.  Clifford  made  as  if  he  would 
return  and  dine  at  home,  but  they  all  clamored  for  his  company. 
With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  I  told  mother  that  I  might  lunch  with  you,  and  I  was 
only  waiting  to  be  pressed  a  little.  I've  lived  a  good  many 
years,  but  never  was  on  a  picnic  in  March  before." 

"  Grandpa,  you  shall  be  squeezed  as  well  as  pressed,"  cried 
Johnnie,  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "  You  shall  stay  and 
see  what  a  lovely  time  you  have  given  us.  Oh,  if  Cinderella 
were  only  here  !  "  and  she  gave  one  little  sigh,  the  first  of  the 
day. 

"  Possibly  Cinderella  may  appear  in  time  for  lunch  ;  "  and  with 


178  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

a  significant  look  he  directed  Amy  to  the  basket  he  had  brought, 
from  the  bottom  of  which  was  drawn  a  doll  with  absurdly  di- 
minutive feet,  and  for  once  in  her  life  Johnnie's  heart  craved 
nothing  more. 

"  Maggie  knew  that  this  little  mother  could  not  be  content 
long  without  her  doll,  and  so  she  put  it  in.  You  children  have 
a  thoughtful  mother,  and  you  must  be  thoughtful  of  her,"  added 
the  old  man,  who  felt  that  the  incident  admitted  of  a  little  homily. 

What  appetites  they  all  had  !  If  some  of  the  potatoes  were 
slightly  burned  and  others  a  little  raw,  the  occasion  added  a 
flavor  better  than  Attic  salt.  A  flock  of  chickadees  approached 
near  enough  to  gather  the  crumbs  that  were  thrown  to  them. 

"It's  strange,"  said  Webb,  "how  tame  the  birds  are  when 
they  return  in  the  spring.  In  the  fall  the  robins  are  among  the 
wildest  of  the  birds,  and  now  they  are  all  around  us.  I  believe 
that  if  I  place  some  crumbs  on  yonder  rock,  they'll  come  and  dine 
with  us,  in  a  sense  ;  "  and  the  event  proved  that  he  was  right. 

"  Hey,  Johnnie,"  said  her  grandfather,  "  you  never  took  din- 
ner with  the  birds  before,  did  you  ?  This  is  almost  as  wonder- 
ful as  if  Cinderella  sat  up  and  asked  for  an  oyster." 

But  Johnnie  was  only  pleased  with  the  fact,  not  surprised. 
Wonderland  was  her  land,  and  she  said,  "  I  don't  see  why  the 
birds  can't  understand  that  I'd  like  to  have  dinner  with  them 
every  day." 

"  By  the  way,  Webb,"  continued  his  father,  "  I  brought  out 
the  field-glass  with  me,  for  I  thought  that  with  your  good  eyes 
you  might  see  Burt ; "  and  he  drew  it  from  his  pocket. 

The  idea  of  seeing  Burt  shooting  ducks  nearly  broke  up  the 
feast,  and  Webb  swept  the  distant  river,  full  of  floating  ice  that 
in  the  sunlight  looked  like  snow.  "  I  can  see  several  out  in 
boats,"  he  said,  "  and  Burt,  no  doubt,  is  among  them." 

Then  Amy,  Alf,  and  Johnnie  must  have  a  look,  but  Ned  de- 
voted himself  strictly  to  business,  and  Amy  remarked  that  he 
was  becoming  like  a  little  sausage. 

"  Can  the  glass  make  us  hear  the  noise  of  the  gun  better?" 


"  F/KST  TIMES:'  179 

Johnnie  asked,  at  which  they  all  laughed,  Ned  louder  than  any, 
because  of  the  laughter  of  the  others.  It  required  but  a  little 
thing  to  make  these  banqueters  hilarious. 

But  there  was  one  who  heard  them  and  did  not  laugh.  From 
the  brow  of  the  hill  a  dark,  sad  face  looked  down  upon  them. 
Lured  by  the  beauty  of  the  day,  Mr.  Alvord  had  wandered  aim- 
lessly into  the  woods,  and,  attracted  by  merry  voices,  had  drawn 
sufficiently  near  to  witness  a  scene  that  awakened  within  him 
indescribable  pain  and  longing.  He  did  not  think  of  joining 
them.  It  was  not  a  fear  that  he  would  be  unwelcomed  that 
kept  him  away ;  he  knew  the  family  too  well  to  imagine  that. 
A  stronger  restraint  was  upon  him.  Something  in  the  past  dark- 
ened even  that  bright  day,  and  built  in  the  crystal  air  a  barrier 
that  he  could  not  pass.  They  would  give  him  a  place  at  their 
rustic  board,  but  he  could  not  take  it.  He  knew  that  he  would 
be  a  discord  in  their  harmony,  and  their  innocent  merriment 
smote  his  morbid  nature  with  almost  intolerable  pain. "  With  a 
gesture  indicating  immeasurable  regret,  he  turned  and  hastened 
away  to  his  lonely  home.  As  he  mounted  the  little  piazza  his 
steps  were  arrested.  The  exposed  end  of  a  post  that  supported 
the  inner  side  of  its  roof  formed  a  little  sheltered  nook  in  which 
a  pair  of  bluebirds  had  begun  to  build  their  nest.  They  looked 
at  him  with  curious  and  distrustful  eyes  as  they  flitted  to  and 
fro  in  a  neighboring  tree  and  he  sat  down  and  looked  at  them. 
The  birds  were  evidently  in  doubt  and  in  perturbed  consultation. 
They  would  fly  to  the  post,  then  away  and  all  around  the  house, 
but  scarcely  a  moment  passed  that  Mr.  Alvord  did  not  see  that 
he  was  observed  and  discussed.  With  singular  interest  and 
deep  suspense  he  awaited  their  decision.  At  last  it  came,  and 
was  favorable.  The  female  bird  came  flying  to  the  post  with  a 
beakful  of  fine  dry  grass,  and  her  mate,  on  a  spray  near,  broke 
out  into  his  soft,  rapturous  song.  The  master  of  the  house  gave 
a  great  sigh  of  relief.  A  glimmer  of  a  smile  passed  over  his 
wan  face  as  he  muttered,  "  I  expected  to  be  alone  this  summer, 
but  I  am  to  have  a  family  with  me,  after  all." 


180  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Soon  after  the  lunch  had  been  discussed  leisurely  and  hilari- 
ously the  maple-sugar  camp  was  left  in  the  care  of  Alf  and 
Johnnie,  with  Abram  to  assist  them.  Amy  longed  for  a  stroll, 
but  even  with  the  protection  of  rubber  boots  she  found  that  the 
departing  frost  had  left  the  sodded  meadow  too  wet  and  spongy 
for  safety.  Under  Webb's  direction  she  picked  her  way  to  the 
margin  of  the  swollen  stream,  and  gathered  some  pussy  willows 
that  were  bursting  their  sheaths. 


REGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING.  iSl 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

REGRETS  AND  DUCK- SHOOTING. 

SATURDAY  afternoon,  as  is  usual  in  the  country,  brought  an 
increased  number  of  duties  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  farm- 
house, but  a^  the  supper  hour  they  all,  except  Burt,  looked  back 
upon  the  day  with  unwonted  satisfaction.  He  had  returned 
weary,  hungry,  and  discontented,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
several  brace  of  ducks  hung  on  the  piazza,  as  trophies  of  his 
skill.  He  was  in  that  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind  which  results 
from  charging  one's  self  with  a  blunder.  In  the  morning  he 
had  entered  on  the  sport  with  his  usual  zest,  but  it  had  soon 
declined,  and  he  wished  he  had  remained  at  home.  He  re- 
membered the  children's  intention  of  spending  the  day  among 
the  maples,  and  as  the  sun  grew  warm,  and  the  air  balmy,  the 
thought  occurred  with  increasing  frequency  that  he  might  have 
induced  Amy  to  join  them,  and  so  have  enjoyed  long  hours  of 
companionship  under  circumstances  most  favorable  to  his  suit. 
He  now  admitted  that  were  the  river  alive  with  ducks,  the  im- 
agined opportunities  of  the  maple  grove  were  tenfold  more 
attractive.  At  one  time  he  half  decided  to  return,  but  pride 
prevented  until  he  should  have  secured  a  fair  amount  of  game. 
He  would  not  go  home  to  be  laughed  at.  Moreover,  Amy  had 
not  been  so  approachable  of  late  as  he  could  wish,  and  he  pro- 
posed to  punish  her  a  little,  hoping  that  she  would  miss  his 
presence  and  attentions.  The  many  reminiscences  at  the  sup- 
per-table were  not  consoling.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  not 
been  missed  in  the  way  that  he  desired  to  be,  and  that  the  day 


1 82  NAl^URE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

had  been  one  of  rich  enjoyment  to  her.  Neither  was  Webb's 
quiet  satisfaction  agreeable,  and  Burt  mildly  anathematized  him- 
self at  the  thought  that  he  might  have  had  his  share  in  giving 
Amy  so  much  pleasure.  He  took  counsel  of  experience,  how- 
ever, and  having  learned  that  even  duck-shooting  under  the 
most  favorable  auspices  palled  when  contrasted  with  Amy's 
smiles  and  society,  he  resolved  to  be  present  in  the  future  when 
she,  like  Nature,  was  in  a  propitious  mood.  Impetuous  as  he 
was,  he  had  not  yet  reached  the  point  of  love's  blindness  which 
would  lead  him  to  press  his  suit  in  season  and  out  of  season. 
He  soon  found  a  chance  to  inform  Amy  of  his  regret,  but  she 
laughed  merrily  back  at  him  as  she  went  up  to  her  room,  saying 
that  the  air  of  a  martyr  sat  upon  him  with  very  poor  grace  in 
view  of  his  success  and  persistence  in  the  sport,  and  that  he 
had  better  put  a  white  mark  against  the  day,  as  she  had  done. 

Early  in  the  evening  Dr.  Marvin  appeared,  with  Mr.  Marks, 
one  of  the  most  noted  duck-shooters  and  fishermen  on  the  river, 
and  they  brought  in  three  superb  specimens  of  a  rare  bird  in 
this  region,  the  American  swan,  that  queen  of  water-fowls  and 
embodiment  of  grace. 

"  Shot  'em  an  hour  or  two  ago,  near  Polopel's  Island,"  said 
Mr.  Marks,  "  and  we  don't  often  have  the  luck  to  get  within 
range  of  such  game.  Dr.  Marvin  was  down  visiting  one  of  my 
children,  and  he  said  how  he  would  like  to  prepare  the  skin  of 
one,  and  he  thought  some  of  you  folks  here  might  like  to  have 
another  mounted,  and  he'd  do  it  if  you  wished." 

Exclamations  of  pleasure  followed  this  proposition.  Alf  ex- 
amined them  with  deep  interest,  while  Burt  whispered  to  Amy 
that  he  would  rather  have  brought  her  home  a  swan  like  one  of 
those  than  all  the  ducks  that  ever  quacked. 

In  accordance  with  their  hospitable  ways,  the  Cliffords  soon 
had  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Marks  seated  by  their  fireside,  and  the 
veteran  sportsman  was  readily  induced  to  enlarge  upon  some  of 
his  experiences. 

He  had  killed  two  of  the  swans,  he  told  them,  as  they  were 


REGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING.  183 

swimming,  and  the  other  as  it  rose.  He  did  not  propose  to  let 
any  such  uncommon  visitors  get  away.  He  had  never  seen 
more  than  ten  since  he  had  lived  in  this  region.  With  the  pro- 
verbial experience  of  meeting  game  when  without  a  gun,  he  had 
seen  five  fly  over,  one  Sunday,  while  taking  a  ramble  on  Plum 
Point. 

"  Have  you  ever  obtained  any  snow-geese  in  our  waters  ? " 
Dr.  Marvin  asked. 

"  No.  That's  the  scarcest  water-fowl  we  have.  Once  in  a 
wild  snow-storm  I  saw  a  flock  of  about  two  hundred  far  out 
upon  the  river,  and  would  have  had  a  shot  into  them,  but  some 
fellows  from  the  other  side  started  out  and  began  firing  at  long 
range,  and  that  has  been  my  only  chance.  I  occasionally  get 
some  brant-geese,  and  they  are  rare  enough.  I  once  saw  a  flock 
of  eight,  and  got  them  all  —  took  five  out  of  the  flock  in  the 
first  two  shots  —  but  I've  never  killed  more  than  twenty-five  in 
all." 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  seen  one,"  remarked  Mrs.  Clifford, 
who,  in  her  feebleness  and  in  her  home-nook,  loved  to  hear 
about  these  bold,  adventurous  travellers.  They  brought  to  her 
vivid  fancy  remote  wild  scenes,  desolate  waters,  and  storm- 
beaten  rocks.  The  tremendous  endurance  and  power  of  wing 
in  these  shy  children  of  nature  never  ceased  to  be  marvels  to 
her.  "  Burt  has  occasionally  shot  wild-geese  —  we  have  one 
mounted  there  —  but  I  do  not  know  what  a  brant  is,  nor  much 
about  its  habits,"  she  added. 

"  Its  markings  are  like  the  ordinary  Canada  wild-goose,"  Dr. 
Marvin  explained,  "  and  it  is  about  midway  in  size  between  a 
goose  and  a  duck." 

"  I've  shot  a  good  many  of  the  common  wild-geese  in  my 
time,"  Mr.  Marks  resumed ;  "  killed  nineteen  four  years  ago. 
I  once  knocked  down  ten  out  of  a  flock  of  thirteen  by  giving 
them  both  barrels.  I  have  a  flock  of  eight  now  in  a  pond  not 
far  away  —  broke  their  wings,  you  know,  and  so  they  can't  fly. 
They  soon  become  tame,  and  might  be  domesticated  easily, 


1 84  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

only  you  must  always  keep  one  wing  cut,  or  they  will  leave  in 
the  spring  or  fall." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Well,  they  never  lose  their  instinct  to  migrate,  and  if  they 
heard  other  wild-geese  flying  over,  they'd  rise  quick  enough  if 
they  could  and  go  with  them." 

"  Do  you  think  there  would  be  any  profit  in  domesticating 
them?"  asked  practical  Leonard. 

"  There  might  be.  I  know  a  man  up  the  river  who  used  to 
cross  them  with  our  common  geese,  and  so  produced  a  hybrid, 
a  sort  of  a  mule-goose,  that  grew  very  large.  I've  known  'em 
to  weigh  eighteen  pounds  or  more,  and  they  were  fine  eating,  I 
can  tell  you.  I  don't  suppose  there  is  much  in  it,  though,  or 
some  cute  Yankee  would  have  made  a  business  of  it  before 
this." 

"  How  many  ducks  do  you  suppose  you  have  shot  all  to- 
gether? "  Mr.  Clifford  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  —  a  great  many.  Killed  five  hundred  last 
fall." 

"What's  the  greatest  number  you  ever  got  out  of  a  flock, 
Marks?"  put  in  Burt. 

"  Well,  there  is  the  old  squaw,  or  long-tailed  duck.  They  go 
in  big  flocks,  you  know  —  have  seen  four  or  five  hundred  to- 
gether. In  the  spring,  just  after  they  have  come  from  feeding 
on  mussels  in  the  southern  oyster-beds,  they  are  fishy,  but  in 
the  fall  they  are  much  better,  and  the  young  ducks  are  scarcely 
fishy  at  all.  I've  taken  twenty-three  out  of  a  flock  by  firing  at 
them  in  the  water  and  again  when  they  rose ;  and  in  the  same 
way  I  once  knocked  over  eighteen  black  or  dusky  ducks ;  and 
they  are  always  fine,  you  know." 

"Are  the  fancy  kinds,  like  the  mallards  and  canvas-backs 
that  are  in  such  demand  by  the  epicures,  still  plentiful  in  their 
season?"  Webb  asked. 

"  No.  I  get  a  few  now  and  then,  but  don't  calculate  on 
them  any  longer.  It  was  my  luck  with  canvas-backs  that  got 


REGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING.  185 

me  into  my  duck-shooting  ways.  I  was  cuffed  and  patted  on 
the  back  the  same  day  on  their  account." 

In  response  to  their  laughing  expressions  of  curiosity  he  re- 
sumed :  "  I  was  but  a  little  chap  at  the  time  ;  still  I  believed  I 
could  shoot  ducks,  but  my  father  wouldn't  trust  me  with  either 
a  gun  or  boat,  and  my  only  chance  was  to  circumvent  the  old 
man.  So  one  night  I  hid  the  gun  outside  of  the  house,  climbed 
out  of  a  window  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  and  paddled  round  a 
point  where  I  would  not  be  seen,  and  I  tell  you  I  had  a  grand 
time.  I  did  not  come  in  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  but  I 
reached  a  point  when  I  must  have  my  dinner,  no  matter  what 
came  before  it.  The, old  man  was  waiting  for  me,  and  he  cuffed 
me  well.  I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  went  to  my  mother,  and  she, 
mother-like,  comforted  me  with  a  big  dinner  which  she  had 
kept  for  me.  I  was  content  to  throw  the  cuffing  in,  and  still 
feel  that  I  had  the  best  of  the  bargain.  An  elder  brother  began 
to  chaff  me  and  ask,  '  Where  are  your  ducks  ? '  '  Better  go  and 
look  under  the  seat  in  the  stern-sheets  before  you  make  any 
more  faces,'  I  answered,  hufifily.  I  suppose  he  thought  at  first 
I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  had  just  enough  curiosity  to 
go  and  see,  and  he  pulled  out  sixteen  canvas-backs.  The  old 
man  was  reconciled  at  once,  for  I  had  made  better  wages  than 
he  that  day ;  and  from  that  time  on  I've  had  all  the  duck- 
shooting  I've  wanted." 

"That's  a  form  of  argument  to  which  the  world  always 
yields,"  said  Leonard,  laughing. 

"  How  many  kinds  of  wild-ducks  do  we  have  here  in  the  bay. 
that  you  can  shoot  so  many  ?  "  Maggie  asked. 

"  I've  never  counted  'em  up.  The  doctor  can  tell  you, 
perhaps." 

"  I've  prepared  the  skins  of  twenty-four  different  kinds  that 
were  shot  in  this  vicinity,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin. 

"  Don't  you  and  Mrs.  Marvin  dissect  the  birds  also?"  queried 
Leonard. 

"  Mr.  Marks,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  I  think  you  once  had  a 


1 86  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

rather  severe  experience  while  out  upon  the  river.  Won't  you 
tell  us  about  it?  " 

"  Yes.  My  favorite  sport  came  nigh  being  the  death  of  me, 
and  it  always  makes  me  shiver  to  think  of  it.  I  started  out  one 
spring  morning  at  five  o'clock,  and  did  not  get  home  till  two 
o'clock  the  next  morning,  and  not  a  mouthful  did  I  have  to  eat. 
I  had  fair  success  during  the  day,  but  was  bothered  by  the 
quantities  of  ice  running,  and  a  high  wind.  About  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  I  concluded  to  return  home,  for  I  was  tired 
and  hungry.  I  was  then  out  in  the  river  off  Plum  Point.  I 
saw  an  opening  leading  south,  and  paddled  into  it,  but  had  not 
gone  far  before  the  wind  drove  the  ice  in  'upon  me,  and  blocked 
the  passage.  There  I  was,  helpless,  and  it  began  to  blow  a 
gale.  The  wind  held  the  ice  immovable  on  the  west  shore, 
even  though  the  tide  was  running  out.  For  a  time  I  thought 
the  boat  would  be  crushed  by  the  grinding  cakes  in  spite  of  all 
I  could  do.  If  it  had,  I'd  'a  been  drowned  at  once,  but  I 
worked  like  a  Trojan,  shouting,  meanwhile,  loud  enough  to 
raise  the  dead.  No  one  seemed  to  hear  or  notice  me.  At 
last  I  made  my  way  to  a  cake  that  was  heavy  enough  to  bear 
my  weight,  and  on  this  I  pulled  up  the  boat,  and  lay  down  ex- 
hausted. It  was  now  almost  night,  and  I  was  too  tired  to 
shout  any  more.  There  on  that  mass  of  ice  I  stayed  till  two 
o'clock  the  next  morning.  I  thought  I'd  freeze  to  death,  if  I 
did  not  drown.  I  shouted  from  time  to  time,  till  I  found  it  was 
of  no  use,  and  then  gave  my  thoughts  to  keeping  awake  and 
warm  enough  to  live.  I  knew  that  my  chance  would  be  with 
the  next  turn  of  the  tide,  when  the  ice  would  move  with  it,  and 
also  the  wind,  up  the  river.  So  it  turned  out.  I  was  at  last 
able  to  break  my  way  through  the  loosened  ice  to  Plum  Point, 
and  then  had  a  two-mile  walk  home ;  and  I  can  tell  you  that  it 
never  seemed  so  like  home  before." 

"  Oh,  Burt,  please  don't  go  out  again  when  the  ice  is  run- 
ning," was  his  mother's  comment  on  the  story. 

"Thoreau  speaks  of  seeing  black  ducks  asleep  on  a  pond 


REGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING.  187 

whereon  thin  ice  had  formed,  enclosing  them,  during  the  March 
night,"  said  Webb.  "  Have  you  ever  caught  them  napping  in 
this  way?" 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Marks ;  "  though  it  might  easily  happen 
on  a  still  pond.  The  tides  and  wind  usually  break  up  the  very 
thin  ice  on  the  river,  and  if  there  is  any  open  water  near,  the 
ducks  will  stay  in  it." 

"  Dr.  Marvin,  have  you  caught  any  glimpses  of  spring  to-day 
that  we  have  not?  "  Amy  asked. 

The  doctor  laughed  —  having  heard  of  Webb's  exploit  in  the 
night  near  the  hennery  —  and  said  :  "  I  might  mention  that  I 
have  seen  '  Sir  Mephitis '  cabbage,  as  I  suppose  I  should  call  it, 
growing  vigorously.  It  is  about  the  first  green  thing  we  have. 
Around  certain  springs,  however,  the  grass  keeps  green  all  win- 
ter, and  I  passed  one  to-day  surrounded  by  an  emerald  hue 
that  was  distinct  in  the  distance.  It  has  been  very  cold  and 
backward  thus  far." 

"  Possess  your  souls  in  patience,"  said  Mr.  Clifford.  "  Spring- 
time and  harvest  are  sure.  After  over  half  a  century's  observa- 
tion I  have  noted  that,  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  have 
been,  Nature  always  catches  up  with  the  season  about  the  mid- 
dle or  last  of  June." 


lS8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE  remainder  of  March  passed  quickly  away,  with  more 
alternations  of  mood  than  there  were  days ;  but  in  spite  of 
snow,  sleet,  wind,  and  rain,  the  most  forbidding  frowns  and 
tempestuous  -tears,  all  knew  that  Nature  had  yielded,  and 
more  and  more  often  she  half-smilingly  acknowledged  the  truth 
herself. 

All  sights  and  sounds  about  the  farm-house  betokened  in- 
creasing activity.  During  the  morning  hours  the  cackling  in 
the  barn  and  out-buildings  developed  into  a  perfect  clamor,  for 
the  more  commonplace  the  event  of  a  new-born  egg  became,  the 
greater  attention  the  hens  were  inclined  to  call  to  it.  Possibly 
they  also  felt  the  spring-time  impulse  of  all  the  feathered  tribes 
to  use  their  voice  to  the  extent  of  its  compass.  The  clatter 
was  music  to  Alf  and  Johnnie,  however,  for  gathering  the  eggs 
was  one  of  their  chief  sources  of  revenue,  and  the  hunting  of 
nests  —  stolen  so  cunningly  and  cackled  over  so  sillily  —  with 
their  accumulated  treasures  was  like  prospecting  for  mines. 
The  great  basketful  they  brought  in  daily  after  their  return  from 
school  proved  that  if  the  egg  manufactory  ran  noisily,  it  did  not 
run  in  vain.  Occasionally  their  father  gave  them  a  peep  into 
the  dusky  brooding-room.  Under  his  thrifty  management  the 
majority  of  the  nests  were  simply  loose  boxes,  each  inscribed 
with  a  number.  When  a  biddy  wished  to  sit,  she  was  removed 
at  night  upon  the  nest,  and  the  box  was  placed  on  a  low  shelf 
in  the  brood  ing- room.  If  she  remained  quiet  and  contented 


APRIL.  189 

in  the  new  location,  eggs  were  placed  under  her,  a  note  of  the 
number  of  the  box  was  taken,  with  the  date,  and  the  character 
of  the  eggs,  if  they  represented  any  special  breed.  By  these 
simple  precautions  little  was  left  to  what  Squire  Hartley  termed 
"  luck."  Some  of  the  hens  had  been  on  the  nest  nearly  three 
weeks,  and  eagerly  did  the  children  listen  for  the  first  faint  peep 
that  should  announce  the  senior  chick  of  the  year. 

Webb  and  Burt  had  already  opened  the  campaign  in  the 
garden.  On  the  black  soil  in  the  hot-bed,  which  had  been 
made  in  a  sheltered  nook,  were  even  now  lines  of  cabbage, 
cauliflower,  lettuce,  tomatoes,  etc.  These  nursling  vegetables 
were  cared  for  as  Maggie  had  watched  her  babies.  On  mild 
sunny  days  the  sash  was  shoved  down  and  air  given.  High 
winds  and  frosty  nights  prompted  to  careful  covering  and  tuck- 
ing away.  The  Cliffords  were  not  of  those  who  believe  that 
pork,  cabbage,  and  potatoes  are  a  farmer's  birthright,  when  by 
a  small  outlay  of  time  and  skill  every  delicacy  can  be  enjoyed, 
even  in  advance  of  the  season.  On  a  warm  slope  from  which 
the  frost  ever  took  its  earliest  departure;  pease,  potatoes,  and 
other  hardy  products  of  the  garden  were  planted,  and  as  the 
ground  grew  firm  enough,  the  fertilizers  of  the  barn-yard  were 
carted  to  the  designated  places,  whereon,  by  Nature's  alchemy, 
they  would  be  transmuted  into  forms  of  use  and  beauty. 

It  so  happened  that  the  ist  of  April  was  an  ideal  spring  day. 
During  the  morning  the  brow  of  Storm  King,  still  clothed  with 
snow,  was  shrouded  in  mist,  through  which  the  light  broke  un- 
certainly in  gleams  of  watery  sunshine.  A  succession  of  show- 
ers took  place,  but  so  slight  and  mild  that  they  were  scarcely 
heeded  by  the  busy  workers ;  there  was  almost  a  profusion  of 
half-formed  rainbows ;  and  atmosphere  and  cloud  so  blended 
that  it  was  hard  to  say  where  one  began  and  the  other  ceased. 
On  every  twig,  dead  weed,  and  spire  of  withered  grass  hung 
innumerable  drops  that  now  were  water  and  again  diamonds 
when  touched  by  the  inconstant  sun.  Sweet-fern  grass  abounded 
in  the  lawn,  and  from  it  exuded  an  indescribably  delicious  odor. 


190  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

The  birds  were  so  ecstatic  in  their  songs,  so  constant  in  their 
calls,  that  one  might  think  that  they,  like  the  children,  were 
making  the  most  of  All-fools'  Day,  and  playing  endless  pranks 
on  each  other.  The  robins  acted  as  if  nothing  was  left  to  be 
desired.  They  were  at  this  time  in  all  stages  of  relationship. 
Some  had  already  paired,  and  were  at  work  upon  their  domiciles, 
but  more  were  in  the  blissful  and  excited  state  of  courtship, 
and  their  conversational  notes,  wooings,  and  pleadings,  as  they 
warbled  the  pros  and  cons,  were  quite  different  from  their  matin 
and  vesper  songs.  Not  unfrequently  there  were  two  aspirants 
for  the  same  claw  or  bill,  and  the  rivals  usually  fought  it  out 
like  their  human  neighbors  in  the  olden  time,  the  red-breasted 
object  of  their  affections  standing  demurely  aloof  on  the  sward, 
quietly  watching  the  contest  with  a  sidelong  look,  undoubtedly 
conscious,  however,  of  a  little  feminine  exultation  that  she  should 
be  sought  thus  fiercely  'by  more  than  one.  After  all,  the  chief 
joy  of  the  robin  world  that  day  resulted  from  the  fact  that  the 
mild,  humid  air  lured  the  earth-worms  from  their  burrowing, 
and  Amy  laughed  more  than  once  as,  from  her  window,  she  saw 
a  little  gourmand  pulling  at  a  worm,  which  clung  so  desperately 
to  its  hole  that  the  bird  at  last  almost  fell  over  backward  with 
its  prize.  Courtship,  nest-building,  family  cares  —  nothing  dis- 
turbs a  robin's  appetite,  and  it  was,  indeed,  a  sorry  fools'-day 
for  myriads  of  angle-worms  that  ventured  out. 

Managing  a  country  place  is  like  sailing  a  ship  :  one's  labors 
are,  or  should  be,  much  modified  by  the  weather.  This  still  day, 
when  the  leaves  were  heavy  with  moisture,  afforded  Webb  the 
chance  he  had  desired  to  rake  the  lawn  and  other  grass-plots 
about  the  house,  and  store  the  material  for  future  use.  He 
was  not  one  to  atternpt  this  task  when  the  wind  would  half 
undo  his  labor. 

In  the  afternoon  tfye  showery  phase  passed,  and  the  sun 
shone  with  a  misty  brightness.  Although  so  early  in  a  back- 
ward spring,  the  day  was  full  of  the  suggestion  of  wild  flowers, 
and  Amy  and  the  children  started  on  their  first  search  into 


APRIL.  191 

Nature's  calendar  of  the  seasons.  Alf  knew  where  to  look  for 
the  earliest  blossoms,  and  in  the  twilight  the  explorers  returned 
with  handfuls  of  hepatica  and  arbutus  buds,  which,  from  expe- 
rience, they  knew  would  bloom  in  a  vase  of  water.  Who  has 
ever  forgotten  his  childish  exultation  over  the  first  wild  flowers 
of  the  year  !  Pale,  delicate  little  blossoms  though  they  be,  and 
most  of  them  odorless,  their  memory  grows  sweet  with  our  age. 

Burt,  who  had  been  away  to  purchase  a  horse  —  he  gave  con- 
siderable of  his  time  to  the  buying  and  selling  of  these  animals 
—  drove  up  as  Amy  approached  the  house,  and  pleaded  for  a 
spray  of  arbutus. 

"  But  the  buds  are  not  open  yet,"  she  said. 

"  No  matter ;  I  should  value  the  spray  just  as  much,  since 
you  gathered  it." 

"  Why.  Burt,"  she  cried,  laughing,  "  on  that  principle  I  might 
as  well  give  you  a  chip."  But  she  gave  him  the  buds  and 
escaped. 

"Amy,"  Webb  asked  at  the  supper-table,  "didn't  you  hear 
the  peepers  this  afternoon  while  out  walking?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  asked  Alf  what  they  were.  He  said  they  were 
peepers,  and  that  they  always  made  a  noise  in  the  spring." 

"  Why,  Alf,"  Webb  resumed,  in  mock  gravity,  "  you  should 
have  told  Amy  that  the  sounds  came  from  the  Hylodes 
pickeringii." 

"  If  that  is  all  that  you  can  tell  me,"  said  Amy,  laughing,  "  I 
prefer  Alf  s  explanation.  I  have  known  people  to  cover  up  their 
ignorance  by  big  words  before.  Indeed,  I  think  it  is  a  way  you 
scientists  have." 

"  I  must  admit  it ;  and  yet  that  close  observer,  John  Bur- 
roughs, gives  a  charming  account  of  these  little  frogs  that  we 
call  '  hylas  '  for  short.  Shy  as  they  are,  and  quick  to  disappear 
when  approached,  he  has  seen  them,  as  they  climb  out  of  the 
mud  upon  a  sedge  or  stick  in  the  marshes,  inflate  their  throats 
until  they  '  suggest  a  little  drummer-boy  with  his  drum  hung 
high.'  In  this  bubble-like  swelling  at  its  throat  the  noise  is 


1 92  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

made  ;  and  to  me  it  is  a  welcome  note  of  spring,  although  I 
have  heard  people  speak  of  it  as  one  of  the  most  lonesome 
and  melancholy  of  sounds.  It  is  a  common  saying  among  old 
farmers  that  the  peepers  must  be  shut  up  three  times  by  frost 
before  we  can  expect  steady  spring  weather.  I  believe  that 
naturalists  think  these  little  mites  of  frogs  leave  the  mud  and 
marshes  later  on,  and  become  tree-toads.  Let  me  give  you  a 
hint,  Alf.  Try  to  find  out  what  you  can  at  once  about  the 
things  you  see  or  hear :  that's  the  way  to  get  an  education." 

"  May  I  not  take  the  hint  also? "  Amy  asked. 

"  Please  don't  think  me  a  born  pedagogue,"  he  answered, 
smiling ;  "  but  you  have  no  idea  how  fast  we  obtain  knowledge 
of  certain  kinds  if  we  follow  up  the  object-lessons  presented 
every  day." 


EASTER.  193 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

EASTER. 

TOASTER-SUNDAY  came  early  in  the  month,  and  there  had 
\_j  been  great  preparations  for  it,  for  with  the  Cliffords  it  was 
one  of  the  chief  festivals  of  the  year.  To  the  children  was 
given  a  week's  vacation,  and  they  scoured  the  woods  for  all  the 
arbutus  that  gave  any  promise  of  opening  in  time.  Clumps  of 
bloodroot,  hepaticas,  dicentras,  dog-tooth  violets,  and  lilies- 
of-the-valley  had  been  taken  up  at  the  first  relaxation  of  frost, 
and  forced  in  the  flower-room.  Hyacinth  and  tulip  bulbs,  kept 
back  the  earlier  part  of  the  winter,  were  timed  to  bloom  arti- 
ficially at  this  season  so  sacred  to  flowers,  and,  under  Mrs. 
Clifford's  fostering  care,  all  the  exotics  of  the  little  conservatory 
had  been  stimulated  to  do  their  best  to  grace  the  day.  On 
Saturday  afternoon  Mr.  Barkdale's  pulpit  was  embowered  with 
plants  and  vines  growing  in  pots,  tubs,  and  rustic  boxes,  and 
the  good  man  beamed  upon  the  work,  gaining  meanwhile  an 
inspiration  that  would  put  a  soul  into  his  words  on  the  morrow. 
No  such  brilliant  morning  dawned  on  the  worship  of  the 
Saxon  goddess  Eostre,  in  cloudy,  forest-clad  England  in  the 
centuries  long  past,  as  broke  over  the  eastern  mountains  on 
that  sacred  day.  At  half-past  five  the  sun  appeared  above  the 
shaggy  summit  of  the  Beacon,  and  the  steel  hues  of  the  placid 
Hudson  were  changed  into  sparkling  silver.  A  white  mist 
rested  on  the  water  between  Storm  King,  Break  Neck,  and 
Mount  Taurus.  In  the  distance  it  appeared  as  if  snow  had 
drifted  in  and  half  filled  the  gorge  of  the  Highlands.  The 


IQ4  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

orange  and  rose-tinted  sky  gradually  deepened  into  an  intense 
blue,  and  although  the  land  was  as  bare  and  the  forests  were 
as  gaunt  as  in  December,  a  soft  glamour  over  all  proclaimed 
spring. 

Spring  was  also  in  Amy's  eyes,  in  the  oval  delicacy  of  her 
girlish  face  with  its  exquisite  flush,  in  her  quick,  deft  hands  and 
elastic  step  as  she  arranged  baskets  and  vases  of  flowers.  Webb 
watched  her  with  his  deep  eyes,  and  his  Easter  worship  began 
early  in  the  day.  True  homage  it  was,  because  so  involuntary, 
so  unquestioning  and  devoid  of  analysis,  so  utterly  free  from 
the  self-conscious  spirit  that  expects  a  large  and  definite  return 
for  adoration.  His  sense  of  beauty,  the  poetic  capabilities  of 
his  nature,  were  kindled.  Like  the  flowers  that  seemed  to 
know  their  place  in  a  harmony  of  color  when  she  touched  them, 
Amy  herself  was  emblematic  of  Easter,  of  its  brightness  and 
hopefulness,  of  the  new,  richer  spiritual  life  that  was  coming  to 
him.  He  loved  his  homely  work  and  calling  as  never  before, 
because  he  saw  how  on  every  side  it  touched  and  blended  with 
the  beautiful  and  sacred.  Its  highest  outcome  was  like  the 
blossoms  before  him  which  had  developed  from  a  rank  soil, 
dark  roots,  and  prosaic  woody  stems.  The  grain  he  raised  fed 
and  matured  the  delicate  human  perfection  shown  in  every 
graceful  and  unconscious  pose  of  the  young  girl.  She  was 
Nature's  priestess  interpreting  to  him  a  higher,  gentler  world 
which  before  he  had  seen  but  dimly  —  interpreting  it  all  the 
more  clearly  because  she  made  no  effort  to  reveal  it.  She  led 
the  way,  he  followed,  and  the  earth  ceased  to  be  an  aggregate 
of  forms  and  material  forces.  With  his  larger  capabilities  he 
might  yet  become  her  master,  but  now,  with  an  utter  absence 
of  vanity,  he  recognized  how  much  she  was  doing  for  him,  how 
she  was  widening  his  horizon  and  uplifting  his  thoughts  and 
motives,  and  he  reverenced  her  as  such  men  ever  do  a  woman 
that  leads  them  to  a  higher  plane  of  life. 

No  such  deep  thoughts  and  vague  homage  perplexed  Burt  as 
he  assisted  Amy  with  attentions  that  were  assiduous  and  almost 


EASTER.  195 

garrulous.  The  brightness  of  the  morning  was  in  his  handsome 
face,  and  the  gladness  of  his  buoyant  temperament  in  his  heart. 
Amy  was  just  to  his  taste  —  pretty,  piquant,  rose-hued,  and  a 
trifle  thorny  too,  at  times,  he  thought.  He  believed  that  he 
loved  her  with  a  boundless  devotion  —  at  least  it  seemed  so 
that  morning.  It  was  delightful  to  be  near  her,  to  touch  her 
fingers  occasionally  as  he  handed  her  flowers,  and  to  win  smiles, 
arch  looks,  and  even  words  that  contained  a  minute  prick  like 
spines  on  the  rose  stems.  He  felt  sure  that  his  suit  would  pros- 
per in  time,  and  she  was  all  the  more  fascinating  because  show- 
ing no  sentimental  tendencies  to  respond  with  a  promptness 
that  in  other  objects  of  his  attention  in  the  past  had  even 
proved  embarrassing.  She  was  a  little  conscious  of  Webb's 
silent  observation,  and,  looking  up  suddenly,  caught  an  expres- 
sion that  deepened  her  color  slightly. 

"  That  for  your  thoughts,"  she  said,  tossing  him  a  flower  with 
sisterly  freedom. 

"  Webb  is  pondering  deeply,"  explained  the  observant  Burt, 
"on  the  reflection  of  light  as  shown  not  only  by  the  color 
in  these  flowers,  but  also  in  your  cheeks  under  his  fixed 
stare." 

There  was  an  access  of  rose-hued  reflection  at  these  words, 
but  Webb  rose  quietly  and  said  :  "  If  you  will  let  me  keep  the 
flower  I  will  tell  you  my  thoughts  another  time.  They  were 
quite  suitable  for  Easter  morning.  That  basket  is  now  ready, 
and  I  will  take  it  to  the  church." 

Burt  was  soon  despatched  with  another,  while  she  and  John- 
nie, who  had  been  flitting  about,  eager  and  interested,  followed 
with  light  and  delicate  vases.  To  their  surprise,  Mr.  Alvord 
intercepted  them  near  the  church  vestibule.  He  had  never 
been  seen  at  any  place  of  worship,  and  the  reserve  and  dignity 
of  his  manner  had  prevented  the  most  zealous  from  interfering 
with  his  habits.  From  the  porch  of  his  cottage  he  had  seen 
Amy  and  the  little  girl  approaching  with  their  floral  offerings. 
Nature's  smile  that  morning  had  softened  his  bitter  mood,  and, 


196  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

obeying  an  impulse  to  look  nearer  upon  two  beings  that  belonged 
to  another  world  than  his,  he  joined  them,  and  asked, 

"  Won't  you  let  me  see  your  flowers  before  you  take  them 
into  the  church  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Amy,  cordially ;  "  but  there  are  lovelier 
ones  on  the  pulpit ;  won't  you  come  in  and  see  them  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"What!"  cried  Johnnie,  "not  going  to  church  to-day?" 
She  had  lost  much  of  her  fear  of  him,  for  in  his  rambles  he 
frequently  met  her  and  Alf,  and  usually  spoke  to  them.  More- 
over, she  had  repeatedly  seen  him  at  their  fireside,  and  he  ever 
had  a  smile  for  her.  The  morbid  are  often  fearless  with  chil- 
dren, believing  that,  like  the  lower  orders  of  life,  they  have 
little  power  to  observe  that  anything  is  amiss,  and  therefore  are 
neither  apt  to  be  repelled  nor  curious  and  suspicious.  This  in 
a  sense  is  true,  and  yet  their  instincts  are  keen.  But  Mr. 
Alvord  was  not  selfish  or  coarse ;  above  all  he  was  not  harsh. 
To  Johnnie  he  only  seemed  strange,  quiet,  and  unhappy,  and 
she  had  often  heard  her  mother  say,  "  Poor  Mr.  Alvord  ! " 
Therefore,  when  he  said,  "  I  don't  go  to  church ;  if  I  had  a 
little  girl  like  you  to  sit  by  me,  I  might  feel  differently,"  her 
heart  was  touched,  and  she. replied,  impulsively:  "I'll  sit  by 
you,  Mr.  Alvord.  I'll  sit  with  you  all  by  ourselves,  if  you  will 
only  go  to  church  to-day.  Why,  it's  Easter." 

"  Mr.  Alvord,"  said  Amy,  gently,  "  that's  an  unusual  offer  for 
shy  Johnnie  to  make.  You  don't  know  what  a  compliment  you 
have  received,  and  I  think  you  will  make  the  child  very  happy 
if  you  comply." 

"  Could  I  make  you  happier  by  sitting  with  you  in  church 
to-day?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  offering  the  child  his 
hand. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  simply. 

"  Come,  then.  You  lead  the  way,  for  you  know  best  where 
to  go."  She  gave  her  vase  to  Amy,  and  led  him  into  a  side 
seat  near  her  father's  pew  —  one  that  she  had  noted  as  unoccu- 


EASTER.  197 

pied  of  late.  "  It's  early  yet.  Do  you  mind  sitting  here  until 
service  begins?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh  no.  I  like  to  sit  here  and  look  at  the  flowers ;  "  and 
the  first  comers  glanced  wonderingly  at  the  little  girl  and  her 
companion,  who  was  a  stranger  to  them  and  to  the  sanctuary. 
Amy  explained  matters  to  Leonard  and  Maggie  at  the  door 
when  they  arrived,  and  Easter-Sunday  had  new  and  sweeter 
meanings  to  them. 

The  spring  had  surely  found  its  way  into  Mr.  Barkdale's 
sermon  also,  and  its  leaves,  as  he  turned  them,  were  not  autumn 


AN   UPLAND  MEADOW. 


leaves,  which,  even  though  brilliant,  suggest  death  and  sad 
changes.  One  of  his  thoughts  was  much  commented  upon  by 
the  Cliffords,  when,  in  good  old  country  style,  the  sermon  was 
spoken  of  at  dinner.  "  The  God  we  worship,"  he  said,  "  is  the 
God  of  life,  of  nature.  In  his  own  time  and  way  he  puts  forth 
his  power.  We  can  employ  this  power  and  make  it  ours. 
Many  of  you  will  do  this  practically  during  the  coming  weeks. 
You  sow  seed,  plant  trees,  and  seek  to  shape  others  into  sym- 
metrical form  by  pruning-knife  and  saw.  What  is  your  expec- 
tation? Why,  that  the  great  power  that  is  revivifying  nature 
will  take  up  the  work  where  you  leave  off,  and  carry  it  forward. 
All  the  skill  and  science  in  the  world  could  not  create  a  field 


198  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

of  waving  grain,  nor  all  the  art  one  of  these  flowers.  How 
immensely  the  power  of  God  supplements  the  labor  of  man  in 
those  things  which  minister  chiefly  to  his  lower  nature  !  Can 
you  believe  that  he  will  put  forth  so  much  energy  that  the  grain 
may  mature  and  the  flower  bloom,  and  yet  not  exert  far  greater 
power  that  man  himself  may  develop  according  to  the  capa- 
bilities of  his  being?  The  forces  now  exist  in  the  earth  and  in 
the  air  to  make  the  year  fruitful,  but  you  must  intelligently  avail 
yourselves  of  them.  You  must  sow,  plant,  and  cultivate.  The 
power  ever  exists  that  can  redeem  us  from  evil,  heal  the  wounds 
that  sin  has  made,  and  develop  the  manhood  and  womanhood 
that  Heaven  receives  and  rewards.  With  the  same  resolute 
intelligence  you  must  lay  hold  upon  this  ever-present  spiritual 
force  if  you  would  be  lifted  up." 

After  the  service  there  were  those  who  would  ostentatiously 
recognize  and  encourage  Mr.  Alvord ;  but  the  Cliffords,  with 
better  breeding,  quietly  and  cordially  greeted  him,  and  that 
was  all.  At  the  door  he  placed  Johnnie's  hand  in  her  mother's, 
and  gently  said,  "Good-by;"  but  the  pleased  smile  of  the 
child  and  Mrs.  Leonard  followed  him.  As  he  entered  his 
porch,  other  maternal  eyes  rested  upon  him,  and  the  brooding 
bluebird  on  her  nest  seemed  to  say,  with  Maggie,  "  I  am  not 
afraid  of  you."  Possibly  to  the  lonely  man  this  may  prove 
Easter-Sunday  in  very  truth,  and  hope,  that  he  had  thought 
buried  forever,  come  from  its  grave. 

In  the  afternoon  all  the  young  people  started  for  the  hills, 
gleaning  the  earliest  flowers,  and  feasting  their  eyes  on  the  sun- 
lit landscapes  veiled  with  soft  haze  from  the  abundant  moisture 
with  which  the  air  was  charged.  As  the  sun  sank  low  in  the 
many-hued  west,  and  the  eastern  mountains  clothed  themselves 
in  royal  purple,  Webb  chanced  to  be  alone,  near  Amy,  and  she 
said, 

"  You  have  had  that  flower  all  day,  and  I  have  not  had  your 
thoughts." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  have  —  a  great  many  of  them." 


EASTER.  199 

"  You  know  that  isn't  what  I  mean.  You  promised  to  tell 
me  what  you  were  thinking  about  so  deeply  this  morning." 

He  looked  at  her  smilingly  a  moment,  and  then  his  face 
grew  gentle  and  grave  as  he  replied  :  "  I  can  scarcely  explain, 
Amy.  I  am  learning  that  thoughts  which  are  not  clear-cut  and 
definite  may  make  upon  us  the  strongest  impressions.  They 
cause  us  to  feel  that  there  is  much  that  we  only  half  know  and 
half  understand  as  yet.  You  and  your  flowers  seemed  to  in- 
terpret to  me  the  meaning  of  this  day  as  I  never  understood  it 
before.  Surely  its  deepest  significance  is  life,  happy,  hopeful 
life,  with  escape  from  its  grosser  elements,  and  as  you  stood 
there  you  embodied  that  idea." 

"  Oh,  Webb,"  she  cried,  in  comic  perplexity,  "  you  are  getting 
too  deep  for  me.  I  was  only  arranging  flowers,  and  not  think- 
ing about  embodying  anything.  But  go  on." 

"  If  you  had  been,  you  would  have  spoiled  everything,"  he 
resumed,  laughing.  "  I  can't  explain ;  I  can  only  suggest  the 
rest  in  a  sentence  or  two.  Look  at  the  shadow  creeping  up 
yonder  mountain  —  very  dark  blue  on  the  lower  side  of  the 
moving  line  and  deep  purple  above.  Listen  to  these  birds 
around  us.  Well,  every  day  I  see  and  hear  and  appreciate 
these  things  better,  and  I  thought  that  you  were  to  blame." 

"  Am  I  very  much  to  blame  ?  "  she  inquired,  archly. 

"  Yes,  very  much,"  was  his  laughing  answer.  "  It  seems  to  me 
that  a  few  months  since  I  was  like  the  old  man  with  the  muck- 
rake in  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  seeking  to  gather  only  money, 
facts,  and  knowledge — things  of  use.  I  now  am  finding  so 
much  that  is  useful  which  I  scarcely  looked  at  before  that  I  am 
revising  my  philosophy,  and  like  it  much  better.  The  simple 
truth  is,  I  needed  just  such  a  sister  as  you  are  to  keep  me  from 
plodding." 

Burt  now  appeared  with  a  handful  of  rue-anemones,  obtained 
by  a  rapid  climb  to  a  very  sunny  nook.  They  were  the  first  of 
the  season,  and  he  justly  believed  that  Amy  would  be  delighted 
with  them.  But  the  words  of  Webb  were  more  treasured,  for 


200  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

they  filled  her  with  a  pleased  wonder.  She  had  seen  the 
changes  herself  to  which  he  referred  ;  but  how  could  a  simple 
girl  wield  such  an  influence  over  the  grave,  studious  man? 
That  was  the  puzzle  of  puzzles.  It  was  an  enigma  that  she 
would  be  long  in  solving,  and  yet  the  explanation  was  her  own 
simplicity,  her  truthfulness  to  all  the  conditions  of  unaffected 
girlhood. 

On  the  way  to  the  house.  Webb  delighted  Johnnie  and  Alf  by 
gathering  sprays  of  the  cherry,  peach,  pear,  and  plum,  saying, 
"  Put  them  in  water  by  a  sunny  window,  and  see  which  will 
bloom  first,  these  sprays  or  the  trees  out-of-doors."  The  supper- 
table  was  graced  by  many  woodland  trophies  —  the  "  tawny 
pendants  "  of  the  alder  that  Thoreau  said  dusted  his  coat  with 
sulphur-like  pollen  as  he  pressed  through  them  to  "  look  for 
mud-turtles,"  pussywillows  now  well  developed,  the  hardy  ferns, 
arbutus,  and  other  harbingers  of  spring,  while  the  flowers  that 
had  been  brought  back  from  the  church  filled  the  room  with 
fragrance.  To  gentle  Mrs.  Clifford,  dwelling  as  she  ever  must 
among  the  shadows  of  pain  and  disease,  this  was  the  happiest 
day  of  the  year,  for  it  pointed  forward  to  immortal  youth  and 
strength,  and  she  loved  to  see  it  decked  and  garlanded  like  a 
bride.  And  so  Easter  passed,  and  became  a  happy  memory. 


VERY  MOODY.  2OI 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

VERY   MOODY. 

THE  next  morning  Amy,  on  looking  from  her  window, 
could  scarcely  believe  she  was  awake.  She  had  retired 
with  her  mind  full  of  spring  and  spring-time  beauty,  but  the 
world  without  had  now  the  aspect  of  January.  The  air  was  one 
swirl  of  snow,  and  trees,  buildings  —  everything  was  white.  In 
dismay  she  hastened  to  join  the  family,  but  was  speedily  re- 
assured. 

"There  is  nothing  monotonous  in  American  weather,  and 
you  must  get  used  to  our  sharp  alternations,"  said  Mr.  Clifford. 
"  This  snow  will  do  good  rather  than  harm,  and  the  lawn  will 
actually  look  green  after  it  has  melted,  as  it  will  speedily.  The 
thing  we  dread  is  a  severe  frost  at  a  far  later  date  than  this. 
The  buds  are  still  too  dormant  to  be  injured,  but  I  have  known 
the  apples  to  be  frozen  on  the  trees  when  as  large  as  walnuts." 

"  Such  snows  are  called  the  poor  man's  manure,"  Webb  re- 
marked, "  and  fertilizing  gases,  to  a  certain  amount,  do  become 
entangled  in  the  large  wet  flakes,  and  so  are  carried  into  the 
soil.  But  the  poor  man  will  assuredly  remain  poor  if  he  has  no 
other  means  of  enriching  his  land.  What  a  contrast  to  yester- 
day !  The  house  on  the  northeast  side  looks  as  if  built  of 
snow,  so  evenly  is  it  plastered  over.  I  pity  the  birds.  They 
have  scarcely  sung  this  morning,  and  they  look  as  if  thoroughly 
disgusted." 

Amy  and  Johnnie  shared  in  the  birds'  disapproval,  but  Alf 
had  a  boy's  affinity  for  snow,  and  resolved  to  construct  an  im- 


202  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

mense  fort  as  soon  as  the  storm  permitted.  Before  the  day  had 
far  declined  the  heavy  flakes  ceased,  and  the  gusty  wind  died 
away.  Johnnie  forgot  the  budding  flowers  in  their  winding- 
sheet,  and  joyously  aided  in  the  construction  of  the  fort.  Down 
the  sloping  lawn  they  rolled  the  snow-balls,  that  so  increased 
with  every  revolution  that  they  soon  rose  above  the  children's 
heads,  and  Webb  and  Burt's  good-natured  help  was  required  to 
pile  them  into  ramparts.  At  the  entrance  of  the  stronghold  an 
immense  snow  sentinel  was  fashioned,  with  a  cord-wood  stick 
for  a  musket.  The  children  fairly  sighed  for  another  month  of 
winter. 

All  night  long  Nature,  in  a  heavy  fall  of  rain,  appeared  to 
weep  that  she  had  been  so  capricious,  and  the  morning  found 
her  in  as  uncomfortable  a  mood  as  could  be  imagined.  The 
slush  was  ankle-deep,  with  indefinite  degrees  of  mud  beneath, 
the  air  chilly  and  raw,  and  the  sky  filled  with  great  ragged 
masses  of  cloud,  so  opaque  and  low  that  they  appeared  as  if 
disrupted  by  some  dynamic  force,  and  threatened  to  fall  upon 
the  shadowed  land.  But  between  them  the  sun  darted  many  a 
smile  at  his  tear-stained  mistress.  At  last  they  took  themselves 
off  like  ill-affected  meddlers  in  a  love  match,  and  the  day  grew 
bright  and  warm.  By  evening,  spring,  literally  and  figuratively, 
had  more  than  regained  lost  ground,  for,  as  Mr.  Clifford  had 
predicted,  the  lawn  had  a  distinct  emerald  hue.  Thenceforth 
the  season  moved  forward  as  if  there  were  to  be  no  more  regrets 
and  nonsense.  An  efficient  ally  in  the  form  of  a  southwest 
wind  came  to  the  aid  of  the  sun,  and  every  day  Nature  re- 
sponded with  increasing  favor.  Amy  no  more  complained  that 
an  American  April  was  like  early  March  in  England ;  and  as 
the  surface  of  the  land  grew  warm  and  dry  it  was  hard  for  her 
to  remain  in-doors,  there  was  so  much  of  life,  bustle,  and 
movement  without.  Buds  were  swelling  on  every  side.  Those 
of  the  lilac  were  nearly  an  inch  long,  and  emitted  a  perfume 
of  the  rarest  delicacy,  far  superior  to  that  of  the  blossoms  to 
come.  The  nests  of  the  earlier  birds  were  in  all  stages  of  con- 


VERY  MOODY.  203 

struction,  and  could  be  seen  readily  in  the  leafless  trees.  Snakes 
were  crawling  from  their  holes,  and  lay  sunning  themselves  in 
the  roads,  to  her  and  Johnnie's  dismay.  Alf  captured  turtles 
that,  deep  in  the  mud,  had  learned  the  advent  of  spring  as 
readily  as  the  creatures  of  the  air.  The  fish  were  ascending 
the  swollen  streams.  "  Each  rill,"  as  Thoreau  wrote,  "  is 
peopled  with  new  life  rushing  up  it."  Abram  and  Alf  were 
planning  a  momentous  expedition  to  a  tumbling  dam  on  the 
Moodna,  the  favorite  resort  of  the  sluggish  suckers.  New  chicks 
were  daily  breaking  their  shells,  and  their  soft,  downy,  ball-like 
little  bodies  were  more  to  Amy's  taste  than  the  peepers  of  the 
marsh. 

One  Saturday  morning  Alf  rushed  in,  announcing  with  breath- 
less haste  that  "  Kitten  had  a  calf."  Kitten  was  a  fawn-colored 
Alderney,  the  favorite  of  the  barn-yard,  and  so  gentle  that  even 
Johnnie  did  not  fear  to  rub  her  rough  nose,  scratch  her  between 
her  horns,  or  bring  her  wisps  of  grass  when  she  was  tied  near 
the  house.  Her  calf  was  unlike  all  other  calves.  There  was  no 
rest  until  Amy  had  seen  it,  and  she  admitted  that  she  had  never 
looked  upon  a  more  innocent  and  droll  little  visage.  At  the 
children's  pleading  the  infant  cow  was  given  to  them,  but  they 
were  warned  to  leave  it  for  the  present  to  Abram  and  Kitten's 
care,  for  the  latter  was  inclined  to  act  like  a  veritable  old  cat 
when  any  one  made  too  free  with  her  bovine  baby. 

This  bright  Saturday  occurring  about  the  middle  of  the 
month  completely  enthroned  spring  in  the  children's  hearts. 
The  air  was  sweet  with  fragrance  from  the  springing  grass  and 
swelling  buds,  and  so  still  and  humid  that  sounds  from  other 
farms  and  gardens,  and  songs  from  distant  fields  and  groves, 
blended  softly  yet  distinctly  with  those  of  the  immediate  vici- 
nage. The  sunshine  was  warm,  but  veiled  by  fleecy  clouds ; 
and  as  the  day  advanced  every  member  of  the  family  was  out- 
of-doors,  even  to  Mrs.  Clifford,  for  whom  had  been  constructed, 
under  her  husband's  direction,  a  low  garden-chair  which  was  so 
light  that  even  Alf  or  Amy  could  draw  it  easily  along  the  walks. 


204  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

From  it  she  stepped  down  on  her  first  visit  of  the  year  to  her 
beloved  flower-beds,  which  Alf  and  Burt  were  putting  in  order 
for  her,  the  latter  blending  with  his  filial  attentions  the  hope  of 
seeing  more  of  Amy.  Nor  was  he  unrewarded,  for  his  manner 
towards  his  mother,  whom  he  alternately  petted  and  chaffed, 
while  at  the  same  time  doing  her  bidding  with  manly  tender- 
ness, won  the  young  girl's  hearty  good- will.  The  only  draw- 
back was  his  inclination  to  pet  her  furtively  even  more.  She 
wished  that  Webb  was  preparing  the  flower-beds,  for  then  there 
would  be  nothing  to  perplex  or  worry  her.  But  he,  with  his 
father  and  Leonard,  was  more  prosaically  employed,  for  they 
were  at  work  in  the  main  or  vegetable  garden.  It  was  with  a 
sense  of  immense  relief  that  she  heard  Mrs.  Clifford,  after  she 
had  given  her  final  directions,  and  gloated  over  the  blooming 
crocuses  and  daffodils,  and  the  budding  hyacinths  and  tulips, 
express  a  wish  to  join  her  husband. 

"  Come  back  soon,"  pleaded  Burt. 

"  I'm  your  mother's  pony  to-day,"  she  replied,  and  hastened 
away.  A  wide  path  bordered  on  either  side  by  old-fashioned 
perennials  and  shrubbery  led  down  through  the  garden.  Amy 
breathed  more  freely  as  soon  as  she  gained  it,  and  at  once  gave 
•herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  pleasing  sights  and  sounds 
on  every  side.  Mr.  Clifford  was  the  picture  of  placid  content  as 
he  sat  on  a  box  in  the  sun,  cutting  potatoes  into  the  proper  size 
for  planting.  Johnnie  was  perched  on  another  box  near,  chat- 
tering incessantly  as  she  handed  him  the  tubers,  and  asking  no 
other  response  than  the  old  gentleman's  amused  smile.  Leon- 
ard with  a  pair  of  stout  horses  was  turning  up  the  rich  black 
mould,  sinking  his  plough  to  the  beam,  and  going  twice  in  a 
furrow.  It  would  require  a  very  severe  drought  to  affect  land 
pulverized  thus  deeply,  for  under  Leonard's  thorough  work  the 
root  pasturage  was  extended  downward  eighteen  inches.  On 
the  side  of  the  plot  nearest  to  the  house  Webb  was  breaking 
the  lumps  and  levelling  the  ground  with  a  heavy  iron-toothed 
rake,  and  also  forking  deeply  the  ends  of  the  furrows  that  had 


VERY  MOODY.  205 


been  trampled  by  the  turning  horses.  Leaving  Mrs.  Clifford 
chatting  and  laughing  with  her  husband  and  Johnnie,  Amy  stood 
in  the  walk  opposite  to  him,  and  he  said  presently  : 

"  Come,  Amy,  you  can  help  me.  You  said  you  wanted  a 
finger  in  our  horticultural  pies,  and  no  doubt  had  in  your  mind 
nothing  less  plebeian  than  flower  seeds  and  roses.  Will  your 
nose  become  retrousse  if  I  ask  you  to  aid  me  in  planting  pars- 
nips, oyster-plant,  carrots,  and  —  think  of  it !  —  onions  ?  " 

"  The  idea  of  my  helping  you,  when  the  best  I  can  do  is  to 
amuse  you  with  my  ignorance  !  But  I'll  put  on  no  airs.  I  do 
not  look  forward  to  an  exclusive  diet  of  roses,  and  am  quite 
curious  to  know  what  part  I  can  have  in  earning  my  daily 
vegetables." 

"  A  useful  and  typical  part  —  that  of  keeping  straight  men 
and  things  in  general.  Wait  a  little  ;  "  and  taking  up  a  coiled 
garden  line,  he  attached  one  end  of  it  to  a  stout  stake  pressed 
firmly  into  the  ground.  He  then  walked  rapidly  over  the  levelled 
soil  to  the  farther  side  of  the  plot,  drew  the  line  "  taut,"  as  the 
sailors  say,  and  tied  it  to  another  stake.  He  next  returned 
towards  Amy,  making  a  shallow  drill  by  drawing  a  sharp-pointed 
hoe  along  under  the  line.  From  a  basket  near,  containing 
labelled  packages  of  seeds,  he  made  a  selection,  and  poured 
into  a  bowl  something  that  looked  like  gunpowder  grains,  and 
sowed  it  rapidly  in  the  little  furrow.  "  Now,  Amy,"  he  cried, 
from  the  farther  side  of  the  plot,  "  do  you  see  that  measuring- 
stick  at  your  feet?  Place  one  end  of  it  against  the  stake  to 
which  the  line  is  fastened,  and  move  the  stake  with  the  line  for- 
ward to  the  other  end  of  the  measuring-stick,  just  as  I  am  do- 
ing here.  That's  it.  You  now  see  how  many  steps  you  save 
me,  and  how  much  faster  I  can  get  on." 

"Are  those  black-looking  grains  you  are  sowing  seed?" 

"  Indeed  they  are,  as  a  few  weeks  may  prove  to  you  by  more 
senses  than  one.  These  are  the  seeds  of  a  vegetable  inseparable 
in  its  associations  from  classic  Italy  and  renowned  in  sacred 
story.  You  may  not  share  in  the  longings  of  the  ancient 


206  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Hebrews,  but  with  its  aid  I  could  easily  bring  tears  of  deep 
feeling  to  your  eyes." 

"  The  vegetable  is  more  pungent  than  your  wit,  Webb,"  she 
laughed ;  but  she  stood  near  the  path  at  the  end  of  the  line, 
which  she  moved  forward  from  time  to  time  as  requested, 
meanwhile  enjoying  an  April  day  that  lacked  few  elements  of 
perfection. 

The  garden  is  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  song-sparrow. 
In  the  flower-border  near,  Amy  would  hear  such  a  vigorous 
scratching  among  the  leaves  that  she  might  well  believe  that  a 
motherly  hen  was  at  work,  but  presently  one  of  these  little 
sober-coated  creatures  that  Thoreau  well  calls  a  "  ground-bird  " 
would  fly  to  the  top  of  a  plum-tree  and  trill  out  a  song  as  sweet 
as  the  perfume  that  came  from  the  blossoming  willows  not  far 
away.  The  busy  ploughs  made  it  a  high  festival  for  the  robins, 
for  with  a  confidence  not  misplaced  they  followed  near  in  the 
furrows  that  Leonard  was  making  in  the  garden,  and  that  Abram 
was  turning  on  an  adjacent  hillside,  and  not  only  the  compara- 
tively harmless  earth-worms  suffered,  but  also  the  pestiferous 
larvae  of  the  May-beetle,  the  arch-enemy  of  the  strawberry- 
plant.  Even  on  that  day  of  such  varied  and  etherealized 
fragrance,  the  fresh,  wholesome  odor  of  the  upturned  earth  was 
grateful.  Suddenly  Webb  straightened  himself  from  the  sow- 
ing of  the  scale-like  parsnip-seed  in  which  he  was  then  en- 
gaged, and  said,  "  Listen."  Remote  yet  distinct,  like  a  dream 
of  a  bird-song,  came  a  simple  melody  from  a  distant  field. 
"  Welcome,"  he  said.  "  That's  our  meadow-lark,  Amy ;  not 
equal  to  your  skylark,  I  admit.  Indeed,  it  is  not  a  lark  at  all, 
for  Dr.  Marvin  says  it  belongs  to  the  oriole  family.  Brief  and 
simple  as  is  its  song,  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  spring 
brings  few  more  lovely  sounds.  That  is  the  first  one  that  I 
have  heard  this  year." 

She  scarcely  more  than  caught  the  ethereal  song  before  Burt 
and  Alf  came  down  the  path,  trundling  immense  wheelbarrow- 
loads  of  the  prunings  of  the  shrubbery  around  the  house.  These 


VERY  MOODY.  2O/ 

were  added  to  a  great  pile  of  brush  and  refuse  that  had  accu- 
mulated on  the  other  side  of  the  walk,  and  to  Alf  was  given 
the  wild  excitement  of  igniting  the  inflammable  mass,  and  soon 
there  was  a  fierce  crackling  as  the  flames  devoured  their  way 
into  the  loose  dry  centre  of  the  rejected  debris  of  the  previous 
year.  Then  to  Alf  and  Johnnie's  unmeasured  delight  they  were 
permitted  to  improvise  a  miniature  prairie  fire.  A  part  of  the 
garden  had  been  left  to  grow  very  weedy  in  the  preceding  sum- 
mer, and  they  were  shown  how  that  by  lighting  the  dry,  dead 
material  on  the  windward  side,  the  flames,  driven  by  a  gentle 
western  breeze,  would  sweep  across  the  entire  plot,  leaving  it 
bare  and  blackened,  ready  for  the  fertilizers  and  the  plough. 
With  merry  cries  they  followed  the  sweeping  line  of  fire,  aiding 
it  forward  by  catching  up  on  iron  rakes  burning  wisps  and  trans- 
ferring them  to  spots  in  the  weedy  plot  that  did  not  kindle 
readily.  Little  Ned,  clinging  to  the  hand  of  Maggie,  who  had 
joined  the  family  in  the  garden,  looked  on  with  awe-struck  eyes. 
From  the  bonfire  -and  the  consuming  weeds  great  volumes  of 
smoke  poured  up  and  floated  away,  the  air  was  full  of  pungent 
odors,  and  the  robins  called  vociferously  back  and  forth  through 
the  garden,  their  alarmed  and  excited  cries  vying  with  the  chil- 
dren's shouts.  In  half  an  hour  only  a  faint  haze  of  smoke  to 
the  eastward  indicated  the  brief  conflagration ;  the  family  had 
gone  to  the  house  for  their  one-o'clock  dinner,  and  the  birds 
were  content  with  the  normal  aspect  of  the  old  garden  in 
April. 

The  promise  of  the  bright  spring  day  was  not  fulfilled.  Cold 
rains  followed  by  frosty  mornings  and  high  cool  winds  prevailed 
with  depressing  persistency.  It  required  almost  as  much  vigor, 
courage,  and  activity  as  had  been  essential  in  March  to  enjoy 
out-door  life.  In  many  of  her  aspects  Nature  appeared  almost 
to  stand  still  and  wait  for  more  genial  skies,  and  yet  for  those 
who  watched  to  greet  and  to  welcome,  the  mighty  impulse  of 
spring  manifested  itself  in  many  ways.  The  currant  and  goose- 
berry bushes,  as  if  remembering  their  original  haunts  in  dim, 


208  NATURES  SERIAL  STORY. 

cold,  boggy  forests,  put  forth  their  foliage  without  hesitation. 
From  the  elm-trees  swung  the  little  pendent  blossoms  that  pre- 
cede the  leaves.  The  lilacs  and  some  other  hardy  shrubs  grew 
green  and  fragrant  daily.  Nothing  daunted,  the  crocuses,  hya- 
cinths, and  tulips  pushed  upward  their  succulent  leaves  with 
steady  resolution.  In  the  woods  the  flowers  had  all  kinds  of 
experiences.  On  the  north  side  of  Storm  King  it  was  still 
winter,  with  great  areas  of  December's  ice  unmelted.  On  the 
south  side  of  the  mountain,  spring  almost  kept  pace  with  the 
calendar.  The  only  result  was  that  the  hardy  little  children  of 
April,  on  which  had  hung  more  snow-flakes  than  dew,  obtained 
a  longer  lease  of  blooming  life,  and  could  have  their  share  in 
garlanding  the  May  Queen.  They  bravely  faced  the  frosty 
nights  and  drenching  rains,  becoming  types  of  those  lives  whose 
beauty  is  only  enhanced  by  adversity  —  of  those  who  make 
better  use  of  a  little  sunny  prosperity  to  bless  the  world  than 
others  on  whom  good-fortune  ever  seems  to  wait. 

The  last  Saturday  of  the  month  was  looked  forward  to  with 
hopeful  expectations,  as  a  genial  earnest  of  May,  and  a  chance 
for  out-door  pleasures ;  but  with  it  came  a  dismal  rain-storm, 
which  left  the  ground  as  cold,  wet,  and  sodden  as  it  had  been 
a  month  before.  The  backward  season,  of  which  the  whole 
country  was  now  complaining,  culminated  on  the  following 
morning,  which  ushered  in  a  day  of  remarkable  vicissitude.  By 
rapid  transition  the  rain  passed  into  sleet,  then  snow,  which 
flurried  down  so  rapidly  that  the  land  grew  white  and  wintry, 
making  it  almost  impossible  to  imagine  that  two  months  of 
spring  had  passed.  By  10  A.M.  the  whirling  flakes  ceased,  but 
a  more  sullen,  leaden,  March-like  sky  never  lowered  over  a 
cold,  dripping  earth.  On  the  north  side  of  the  house  a  white 
hyacinth  was  seen  hanging  its  pendent  blossoms  half  in  and 
half  out  of  the  snow,  and  Alf,  who  in  response  to  Dr.  Marvin's 
suggestion  was  following  some  of  the  family  fortunes  among 
the  homes  in  the  trees,  came  in  and  said  that  he  had  found 
nests  well  hidden  by  a  covering  all  too  cold,  with  the  resolute 


VERY  MOODY.  209 

mother  bird  protecting  her  eggs,  although  chilled,  wet,  and 
shivering  herself.  By  i  P.M.  the  clouds  grew  thin,  rolled  away, 
and  disappeared.  The  sun  broke  out  with  a  determined  warmth 
and  power,  and  the  snow  vanished  like  a  spectre  of  the  long- 
past  winter.  The  birds  took  heart,  and  their  songs  of  exulta- 
tion resounded  from  far  and  near.  A  warm  south  breeze  sprang 
up  and  fanned  Amy's  cheek,  as  she,  with  the  children  and 
Burt,  went  out  for  their  usual  Sunday-afternoon  walk.  They 
found  the  flowers  looking  up  hopefully,  but  with  melted  snow 
hanging  like  tears  on  their  pale  little  faces.  The  sun  at  last 
sank  into  the  unclouded  west,  illumining  the  sky  with  a  warm, 
golden  promise  for  the  future.  Amy  gazed  at  its  departing 
glory,  but  Burt  looked  at  her  —  looked  so  earnestly,  so  wistfully, 
that  she  was  full  of  compunction  even  while  she  welcomed  the 
return  of  the  children,  which  delayed  the  words  that  were 
trembling  on  his  lips.  He  was  ready,  she  was  not;  and  he 
walked  homeward  at  her  side  silent  and  depressed,  feeling  that 
the  receptive,  responsive  spring  was  later  in  her  heart  than  in 
Nature. 


210  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SHAD-FISHING    BY    PROXY. 

A  CCORDING  to  the  almanac,  May  was  on  time  to  a  second, 
£~\.  but  Nature  seemed  unaware  of  the  fact.  Great  bodies  of 
snow  covered  the  Adirondack  region,  and  not  a  little  still  re- 
mained all  the  way  southward  through  the  Catskills  and  the 
Highlands,  about  the  head-waters  of  the  Delaware,  and  its  cold 
breath  benumbed  the  land.  Johnnie's  chosen  intimates  had 
given  her  their  suffrages  as  May  Queen ;  but  prudent  Maggie 
had  decided  that  the  crowning  ceremonies  should  not  take 
place  until  May  truly  appeared,  with  its  warmth  and  floral 
wealth.  Therefore,  on  the  first  Saturday  of  the  month,  Leonard 
planned  a  half-holiday,  which  should  not  only  compensate  the 
disappointed  children,  but  also  give  his  busy  wife  a  little  outing. 
He  had  learned  that  the  tide  was  right  for  crossing  the  shallows 
of  the  Moodna  Creek,  and  they  would  all  go  fishing.  Johnnie's 
friends  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  were  invited,  and  great  were 
the  preparations.  Reed  and  all  kinds  of  poles  were  taken  down 
from  their  hooks,  or  cut  in  a  neighboring  thicket,  the  country 
store  was  depleted  of  its  stock  of  rusty  hooks  and  stray  corks 
were  fastened  on  the  brown  linen  lines  for  floats.  Burt  dis- 
dained to  take  his  scientific  tackle,  and  indeed  there  was  little 
use  for  it  in  Moodna  Creek,  but  he  joined  readily  in  the  frolic. 
He  would  be  willing  to  fish  indefinitely  for  even  minnows,  if  at 
the  same  time  there  was  a  chance  to  angle  for  Amy.  Some 
preferred  to  walk  to  the  river,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  family 
rockaway  the  entire  party  were  at  the  boat-house  before  the 


SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY.  211 

sun  had  passed  much  beyond  the  meridian.  Burt,  from  his 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  channel,  acted  as  pilot,  and  was 
jubilant  over  the  fact  that  Amy  consented  to  take  an  oar  with 
him  and  receive  a  lesson  in  rowing.  Mrs.  Marvin  held  the 
tiller-ropes,  and  the  doctor  was  to  use  a  pair  of  oars  when  re- 
quested to  do  so.  Webb  and  Leonard  took  charge  of  the 
larger  boat,  of  which  Johnnie,  as  hostess,  was  captain,  and  a 
jolly  group  of  little  boys  and  girls  made  the  echoes  ring,  while 
Ned,  with  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  clung  close  to  his  mother, 
and  regarded  the  nautical  expedition  rather  dubiously.  They 
swept  across  the  flats  to  the  deeper  water  near  Plum  Point,  and 
so  up  the  Moodna,  whose  shores  were  becoming  green  with  the 
rank  growth  of  the  bordering  marsh.  Passing  under  ah  old 
covered  bridge  they  were  soon  skirting  an  island  from  which 
rose  a  noble  grove  of  trees,  whose  swollen  buds  were  only  wait- 
ing for  a  warmer  caress  of  the  sun  to  unfold.  Returning,  they 
beached  their  boats  below  the  bridge,  under  whose  shadow  the 
fish  were  fond  of  lying.  The  little  people  were  disembarked, 
and  placed  at  safe  distances ;  for,  if  near,  they  would  surely 
hook  each  other,  if  never  a  fin.  Silence  was  enjoined,  and 
there  was  a  breathless  hush  for  the  space  of  two  minutes ;  then 
began  whispers  more  resonant  than  those  of  the  stage,  followed 
by  acclamations  as  Johnnie  pulled  up  a  wriggling  eel,  of  which 
she  was  in  mortal  terror.  They  all  had  good  sport,  however, 
for  the  smaller  fry  of  the  finny  tribes  that  haunted  the  vicinity 
of  the  old  bridge  suffered  from  the  well-known  tendency  of 
extreme  youth  to  take  everything  into  its  mouth.  Indeed,  at 
that  season,  an  immature  sun-fish  will  take  a  hook  if  there  is 
but  a  remnant  of  a  worm  upon  it.  The  day  was  good  for  fishing, 
since  thin  clouds  darkened  the  water.  Amy  was  the  heroine 
of  the  party,  for  Burt  had  furnished  her  with  a  long,  light  pole, 
and  taught  her  to  throw  her  line  well  away  from  the  others.  As 
a  result  she  soon  took,  amidst  excited  plaudits,  several  fine 
yellow  perch.  At  last  Leonard  shouted  : 

"  You  shall  not  have  all  the  honors,  Amy.     I  have  a  hook  in 


212  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

my  pocket  that  will  catch  bigger  fish  than  you  have  seen  to-day. 
Come,  the  tide  is  going  out,  and  we  must  go  out  of  the  creek 
with  it  unless  we  wish  to  spend  the  night  on  a  sand-bar.  I 
shall  now  try  my  luck  at  shad-fishing  over  by  Polopel's  Island." 

The  prospect  of  crossing  the  river  and  following  the  drift- 
nets  down  into  the  Highlands  was  a  glad  surprise  to  all,  and 
they  were  soon  in  Newburgh  Bay,  whose  broad  lake-like  surface 
was  unruffled  by  a  breath.  The  sun,  declining  towards  the  west, 
scattered  rose-hues  among  the  clouds.  Sloops  and  schooners 
had  lost  steerage-way,  and  their  sails  flapped  idly  against  the 
masts.  The  grind  of  oars  between  the  thole-pins  came  dis- 
tinctly across  the  water  from  far-distant  boats,  while  songs  and 
calls  of  birds,  faint  and  etherealized,  reached  them  from  the 
shores.  Rowing  towards  a  man  rapidly  paying  out  a  net  from 
the  stern  of  his  boat  they  were  soon  hailed  by  Mr.  Marks,  who 
with  genial  good-nature  invited  them  to  see  the  sport.  He  had 
begun  throwing  his  net  over  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  his  oars- 
man rowing  eastward  with  a  slight  inclination  towards  the  south, 
for  the  reason  that  the  tide  is  swifter  on  the  western  side.  The 
aim  is  to  keep  the  net  as  straight  as  possible  and  at  right  angles 
with  the  tide.  The  two  boats  were  soon  following  Mr.  Marks 
on  either  side,  the  smooth  water  and  the  absence  of  wind  en- 
abling them  to  keep  near  and  converse  without  effort.  Away 
in  their  wake  bobbed  the  cork  floats  in  an  irregular  line,  and 
from  these  floats,  about  twenty  feet  below  the  surface,  was  sus- 
pended the  net,  which  extended  down  thirty  or  forty  feet 
farther,  being  kept  in  a  vertical  position  by  iron  rings  strung 
along  its  lower  edge  at  regular  intervals.  Thus  the  lower  side 
of  the  net  was  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet  below  the  surface.  In 
shallow  water  narrower  nets  are  rigged  to  float  vertically  much 
nearer  the  surface.  Mr.  Marks  explained  that  his  net  was  about 
half  a  mile  long,  adding, 

"  It's  fun  fishing  on  a  day  like  this,  but  it's  rather  tough  in  a 
gale  of  wind,  with  your  eyes  half  blinded  by  rain,  and  the 
waves  breaking  into  your  boat.  Yes,  we  catch  just  as  many 


SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY.  213 

then,  perhaps  more,  for  there  are  fewer  men  out,  and  I  suppose 
the  weather  is  always  about  the  same,  except  as  to  temperature, 
down  where  the  shad  are.  The  fish  don't  mind  wet  weather ; 
neither  must  we  if  we  make  a  business  of  catching  them." 

"  Do  you  always  throw  out  your  net  from  the.  west  shore 
towards  the  east  ?  "  Webb  asked. 

"  No,  we  usually  pay  out  against  the  wind.  With  the  wind 
the  boat  is  apt  to  go  too  fast.  The  great  point  is  to  keep  the 
net  straight  and  not  all  tangled  and  wobbled  up.  Passing  boats 
bother  us,  too.  Sometimes  a  float  will  catch  on  a  paddle- 
wheel,  and  like  enough  half  of  the  net  will  be  torn  away.  A 
pilot  with  any  human  feeling  will  usually  steer  one  side,  and 
give  a  fellow  a  chance,  and  we  can  often  bribe  the  skipper  of 
sailing-craft  by  holding  up  a  shad  and  throwing  it  aboard  as  he 
tacks  around  us.  As  a  rule,  however,  boats  of  all  kinds  pass 
over  a  net  without  doing  any  harm.  Occasionally  a  net  breaks 
from  the  floats  and  drags  on  the  bottom.  This  is  covered  with 
cinders  thrown  out  by  steamers,  and  they  play  the  mischief." 

"  Do  the  fish  swim  against  the  tide  ?  " 

"  Usually,  but  they  come  in  on  both  sides." 

"  Mr.  Marks,  how  can  you  catch  fish  in  a  net  that  is  straight 
up  and  down?  "  Amy  asked. 

"  You'll  soon  see,  but  I'll  explain.  The  meshes  of  the  net 
will  stretch  five  inches.  A  shad  swims  into  one  of  these  and 
then,  like  many  others  that  go  into  things,  finds  he  can't  back 
out,  for  his  gills  catch  on  the  sides  of  the  mesh  and  there  he 
hangs.  Occasionally  a  shad  will  just  tangle  himself  up  and  so 
be  caught,  and  sometimes  we  take  a  large  striped  bass  in  this 
way." 

In  answer  to  a  question  of  Burt's  he  continued  :  "  I  just  let 
my  net  float  with  the  tide  as  you  see,  giving  it  a  pull  from  one 
end  or  the  other  now  and  then  to  keep  it  as  straight  and  as 
near  at  right  angles  with  the  river  as  possible.  When  the  tide 
stops  running  out  and  turns  a  little  we  begin  .at  one  end  of  the 
net  and  pull  it  up,  taking  out  the  fish,  at  the  same  time  laying  it 


214  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

carefully  in  folds  on  a  platform  in  the  stern-sheets,  so  as  to  pre- 
vent all  tangles.  If  the  net  comes  up  clear  and  free,  I  may  throw 
it  in  again  and  float  back  with  the  tide.  So  far  from  being  able 
to  depend  on  this,  we  often  have  to  go  ashore  where  there  is  a 
smooth  beach  before  our  drift  is  over  and  disentangle  our  net. 
There,  now,  I'm  through  with  paying  out.  Haven't  you  noticed  v 
the  floats  bobbing  here  and  there?  " 


SHAD-FISHING    ON    THE    HUDSON. 

"We've  been  too  busy  listening  and  watching  you,"  said 
Leonard. 

"  Well,  now,  watch  the  floats.  If  you  see  one  bob  under  and 
wobble,  a  shad  has  struck  the  net  near  it,  and  I  can  go  and 
take  him  out.  In  smooth  water  it's  like  fishing  with  one  of 
your  little  cork  bobbers  there  on  your  lines.  I'll  give  the  shad 
to  the  first  one  that  sees  a  float  bob  under." 


SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY.  21$ 

Alf  nearly  sprang  out  of  the  boat  as  he  pointed  and  shouted, 
"There,  there." 

Laughing  good-naturedly,  Mr.  Marks  lifted  the  net  beneath 
the  float,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  a  great  roe-shad  hanging 
by  his  gills,  and  Alf  gloated  over  his  supper,  already  secured. 

The  fish  were  running  well,  and  there  were  excited  calls  and 
frantic  pointings,  in  which  at  first  even  the  older  members  of 
the  party  joined,  and  every  few  moments  a  writhing  shad 
flashed  in  the  slanting  rays  as  it  was  tossed  into  the  boat.  Up 
and  down  the  long,  irregular  line  of  floats  the  boats  passed  and 
repassed  until  excitement  verged  towards  satiety,  and  the  sun, 
near  the  horizon,  with  a  cloud  canopy  of  crimson  and  gold, 
warned  the  merry  fishers  by  proxy  that  their  boats  should  be 
turned  homeward.  Leonard  pulled  out  what  he  termed  his 
silver  hook,  and  supplied  not  only  the  Clifford  family,  but  all 
of  Johnnie's  guests,  with  fish  so  fresh  that  they  had  as  yet 
scarcely  realized  that  they  were  out  of  water. 

"  Now,  Amy;"  said  Burt,  "  keep  stroke  with  me,"  adding,  in 
a  whisper,  "  no  fear  but  that  we  can  pull  well  together." 

Her  response  was,  "  One  always  associates  a  song  with  row- 
ing. Come,  strike  up,  and  let  us  keep  the  boats  abreast  that 
all  may  join." 

He,  well  content,  started  a  familiar  boating  song,  to  which 
the  splash  of  their  oars  made  musical  accompaniment.  A  pass- 
ing steamer  saluted  them,  and  a  moment  later  the  boats  rose 
gracefully  over  the  swells.  The  glassy  river  flashed  back  the 
crimson  of  the  clouds,  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  mountains 
donned  their  royal  purple,  the  intervening  shadows  of  valleys 
making  the  folds  of  their  robes.  As  they  approached  the  shore 
the  resonant  song  of  the  robins  blended  with  the  human  voices. 
Burt,  however,  heard  only  Amy's  girlish  soprano,  and  saw  but 
the  pearl  of  her  teeth  through  her  parted  lips,  the  rose  in  her 
cheeks,  and  the  snow  of  her  neck. 

Final  words  were  spoken  and  all  were  soon  at  home.  Maggie 
took  the  household  helm  with  a  fresh  and  vigorous  grasp. 


2l6  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

What  a  supper  she  improvised  !  The  maids  never  dawdled 
when  she  directed,  and  by  the  time  the  hungry  fishermen  were 
ready,  the  shad  that  two  hours  before  had  been  swimming  deep 
in  the  Hudson  lay  browned  to  a  turn  on  the  ample  platter. 
"  It  is  this  quick  transition  that  gives  to  game  fish  their  most 
exquisite  flavor,"  Burt  remarked. 

"Are  shad  put  down  among  the  game  fish?"  his  father 
asked. 

"  Yes ;  they  were  included  not  very  long  ago,  and  most  justly, 
too,  as  I  can  testify  to-night.  I  never  tasted  anything  more 
delicious,  except  trout.  If  a  shad  were  not  so  bony  it  would  be 
almost  perfection  when  eaten  under  the  right  conditions.  Not 
many  on  the  Hudson  are  aware  of  the  fact,  perhaps,  but  angling 
for  them  is  fine  sport  in  some  rivers.  They  will  take  a  fly  in 
the  Connecticut  and  Housatonic ;  but  angle-worms  and  other 
bait  are  employed  in  the  Delaware  and  Southern  rivers.  The 
best  time  to  catch  them  is  early  in  the  morning,  and  from  six 
to  eight  in  the  evening.  At  dusk  one  may  cast  for  them  in  still 
water,  as  for  trout.  The  Hudson  is  too  big,  I  suppose,  and  the 
water  too  deep,  although  I  see  no  reason  why  the  young  fry 
should  not  be  caught  in  our  river  as  well  as  in  the  Delaware.  I 
have  read  of  their  biting  voraciously  in  September  at  a  short 
distance  above  Philadelphia." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  our  rivers  are  full  of  shad  in 
August  and  September?"  Leonard  asked. 

"  Yes ;  that  is,  of  young  shad  on  the  way  to  the  sea.  The 
females  that  are  running  up  now  will  spawn  in  the  upper  and 
shallow  waters  of  the  river,  and  return  to  the  ocean  by  the  end 
of  June,  and  in  the  autumn  the  small  fry  will  also  go  to  the  sea, 
the  females  to  remain  there  two  years.  The  males  will  come 
back  next  spring,  and  these  young  males  are  called  '  chicken 
shad '  on  the  Connecticut.  Multitudes  of  these  half-grown  fish 
are  taken  in  seines,  and  sold  as  herrings  or  '  ale  wives  ; '  for  the 
true  herring  does  not  run  up  into  fresh  water.  Young  shad  are 
said  to  have  teeth,  and  they  live  largely  on  insects,  while  the 


SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY.  217 

full-grown  fish  have  no  teeth,  and  feed  chiefly  on  animalcules 
that  form  the  greater  part  of  the  slimy  growths  that  cover 
nearly  everything  that  is  long  under  water." 

"  Well,  I  never  had  so  much  shad  before  in  my  life,"  said  his 
father,  laughing,  and  pushing  back  his  chair;  "and,  Burt,  I 
have  enjoyed  those  you  have  served  up  in  the  water  almost  as 
much  as  those  dished  under  Maggie's  superintendence." 

"  I  should  suppose  that  the  present  mode  of  fishing  with 
drift-nets  was  cheaper  and  more  profitable  than  the  old  method 
of  suspending  the  nets  between  poles,"  Leonard  remarked. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  Burt  continued,  vivaciously,  for  he  observed 
that  Amy  was  listening  with  interest.  "  Poles,  too,  form  a 
serious  obstruction.  Once,  years  ago,  I  was  standing  near  the 
guards  of  a  steamboat,  when  I  heard  the  most  awful  grating, 
rasping  sound,  and  a  moment  later  a  shad-pole  gyrated  past  me 
with  force  enough  to  brain  an  elephant  had  it  struck  him.  It 
was  good  fun,  though,  in  old  times  to  go  out  and  see  them 
raise  the  nets,  for  they  often  came  up  heavy  with  fish.  Strange 
to  say,  a  loon  was  once  pulled  up  with  the  shad.  Driven  by 
fear,  it  must  have  dived  so  vigorously  as  to  entangle  itself,  for 
there  it  hung  with  its  head  and  one  leg  fast.  I  suppose  that 
the  last  moment  of  consciousness  that  the  poor  bird  had  was 
one  of  strong  surprise." 


2l8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

MAY   AND   GIRLHOOD. 

MAY  came  in  reality  the  following  morning.  Perhaps  she 
thought  that  the  leisure  of  Sunday  would  secure  her  a 
more  appreciative  welcome.  The  wind  no  longer  blew  from 
the  chill  and  still  snowy  North,  but  from  lands  that  had  long 
since  responded  to  the  sun's  genial  power.  Therefore,  the 
breeze  that  came  and  went  fitfully  was  like  a  warm,  fragrant 
breath,  and  truly  it  seemed  to  breathe  life  and  beauty  into  all 
things.  During  the  morning  hours  the  cluster  buds  of  the 
cherry  burst  their  varnished-looking  sheath,  revealing  one  third 
of  the  little  green  stems  on  which  the  blossoms  would  soon 
appear.  The  currant-bushes  were  hanging  out  their  lengthen- 
ing racemes,  and  the  hum  of  many  bees  proved  that  honey  may 
be  gathered  even  from  gooseberry-bushes,  thus  suggesting  a 
genial  philosophy.  The  sugar-maples  were  beginning  to  unfold 
their  leaves  and  to  dangle  their  emerald  gold  flowers  from  long, 
drooping  pedicles.  Few  objects  have  more  exquisite  and  deli- 
cate beauty  than  this  inflorescence  when  lighted  up  by  the  low 
afternoon  sun.  The  meadows  and  oat  fields  were  passing  into 
a  vivid-  green,  and  the  hardy  rye  had  pushed  on  so  resolutely  in 
all  weathers,  that  it  was  becoming  billowy  under  the  wind.  All 
through  the  week  the  hues  of  life  and  beauty  became  more  and 
more  apparent  upon  the  face  of  Nature,  and  by  the  following 
Saturday  May  had  provided  everything  in  perfection  for 
Johnnie's  coronation  ceremonies. 

For  weeks  past  there  had  been  distinguished  arrivals  from 


MAY  AND  GIRLHOOD.          >  219 

the  South  almost  daily.  Some  of  these  songsters,  like  the  fox- 
sparrow,  sojourned  a  few  weeks,  favoring  all  listeners  with  their 
sweet  and  simple  melodies ;  but  the  chief  musician  of  the 
American  forests,  the  hermit  thrush,  passed  silently,  and  would 
not  deign  to  utter  a  note  of  his  unrivalled  minstrelsy  until  he 
had  reached  his  remote  haunts  at  the  North.  Dr.  Marvin 
evidently  had  a  grudge  against  this  shy,  distant  bird,  and  often 
complained,  "  Why  can't  he  give  us  a  song  or  two  as  he  lingers 
here  in  his  journey?  I  often  see  him  flitting  about  in  the 
mountains,  and  have  watched  him  by  the  hour  with  the  curi- 
osity that  prompts  one  to  look  at  a  great  soprano  or  tenor,  hop- 
ing that  he  might  indulge  me  with  a  brief  song  as  a  sample  of 
what  he  could  do,  but  he  was  always  royally  indifferent  and 
reserved.  I  am  going  to  the  Adirondacks  on  purpose  to  hear 
him  some  day.  There's  the  winter  wren,  too  —  saucy,  inquisi- 
tive little  imp  !  —  he  was  here  all  winter,  and  has  left  us  without 
vouchsafing  a  note.  But,  then,  great  singers  are  a  law  unto 
themselves  the  world  over." 

But  the  doctor  had  small  cause  for  complaint,  for  there  are 
few  regions  more  richly  endowed  with  birds  than  the  valley  of 
the  Hudson.  As  has  been  seen,  it  is  the  winter  resort  of  not  a 
few,  and  is,  moreover,  a  great  highway  of  migration,  for  birds 
are  ever  prone  to  follow  the  watercourses  that  run  north  and 
south.  The  region  also  affords  so  wide  a  choice  of  locality  and 
condition  that  the  tastes  of  very  many  birds  are  suited.  There 
are  numerous  gardens  and  a  profusion  of  fruit  for  those  that 
are  half  domesticated  ;  orchards  abounding  in  old  trees  with 
knot-holes,  admirably  fitted  for  summer  homes  ;  elms  on  which 
to  hang  the  graceful  pensile  nests  — "  castles  in  air,"  as  Bur- 
roughs calls  them  ;  meadows  in  which  the  lark,  vesper  sparrow, 
and  bobolink  can  disport;  and  forests  stretching  up  into  the 
mountains,  wherein  the  shyest  birds  can  enjoy  all  the  seclusion 
they  desire,  content  to  sing  unheard,  as  the  flowers  around  them 
bloom  unseen,  except  by  those  who  love  them  well  enough  to 
seek  them  in  their  remotest  haunts. 


220  s     NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

The  week  which  preceded  the  May  party  was  a  memorable 
one  to  Amy,  for  during  its  sunny  days  she  saw  an  American 
spring  in  its  perfection.  Each  morning  brought  rich  surprises 
to  her,  Johnnie,  and  Alf,  and  to  Webb  an  increasing  wonder 
that  he  had  never  before  truly  seen  the  world  in  which  he  lived. 
The  pent-up  forces  of  Nature,  long  restrained,  seemed  finding 
new  expression  every  hour.  Tulips  opened  their  gaudy  chalices 
to  catch  the  morning  dew.  Massive  spikes  of  hyacinths  dis- 
tilled a  rich  perfume  that  was  none  too  sweet  in  the  open  air. 
Whenever  Amy  stepped  from  the  door  it  seemed  that  some  new 
flower  had  opened  and  some  new  development  of  greenery  and 
beauty  had  been  revealed.  But  the  crowning  glory  in  the  near 
landscape  were  the  fruit  trees.  The  cherry  boughs  grew  white 
every  day,  and  were  closely  followed  by  the  plum  and  pear  and 
the  pink-hued  peach  blossoms.  Even  Squire  Hartley's  un- 
attractive place  was  transformed  for  a  time  into  fairy-land  ;  but 
he,  poor  man,  saw  not  the  blossoms,  and  the  birds  and  boys 
stole  his  fruit.  Amy  wondered  at  the  wealth  of  flowers  that 
made  many  of  the  trees  as  white  as  they  had  been  on  the 
snowiest  day  of  winter,  and  Johnnie  revelled  in  them,  often 
climbing  up  into  some  low-branched  tree,  that  she  might  bury 
herself  in  their  beauty,  and  inhale  their  fragrance  in  long  breaths 
of  delight.  The  bees  that  filled  the  air  about  her  with  their 
busy  hum  never  molested  her,  believing,  no  doubt,  that  she  had 
as  good  a  right  as  themselves  to  enjoy  the  sweets  in  her  way. 
After  all,  it  was  Mrs.  Clifford,  perhaps,  who  obtained  the  pro- 
foundest  enjoyment  from  the  season.  Seated  by  her  window  or 
in  a  sunny  corner  of  the  piazza,  she  would  watch  the  unfolding 
buds  as  if  she  were  listening  to  some  sweet  old  story  that  had 
grown  dearer  with  every  repetition.  Indeed,  this  was  true,  for 
with  the  blossoms  of  every  year  were  interwoven  the  memories 
of  a  long  life,  and  their  associations  had  scarcely  ever  been 
more  to  her  heart  than  the  new  ones  now  forming.  She  often 
saw,  with  her  children  and  grandchildren,  the  form  of  a  tall  girl 
passing  to  and  fro,  and  to  her  loving  eyes  Amy  seemed  to  be 


MAY  AND  GIRLHOOD.  221 

the  fairest  and  sweetest  flower  of  this  gala  period.  She,  and 
indeed  they  all,  had  observed  Hurt's  strongly  manifested  prefer- 
ence, but,  with  innate  refinement  and  good  sense,  there  had 
been  a  tacit  agreement  to  appear  blind.  The  orphan  girl 
should  not  be  annoyed  by  even  the  most  delicate  raillery,  but 
the  old  lady  and  her  husband  could  not  but  feel  the  deepest 
satisfaction  that  Burt  was  making  so  wise  a  choice.  They  liked 
Amy  all  the  better  because  she  was  so  little  disposed  to  senti- 
ment, and  proved  that  she  was  not  to  be  won  easily. 

But  they  all  failed  to  understand  her,  and  gave  her  credit  for 
a  maturity  that  she  did  not  possess.  In  her  happy,  healthful 
country  life  the  girlish  form  that  had  seemed  so  fragile  when  she 
first  came  to  them  was  taking  on  the  rounded  lines  of  womanhood. 
Why  should  she  not  be  wooed  like  other  girls  at  her  age? 
Burt  was  farther  astray  than  any  one  else,  and  was  even  inclined 
to  complain  mentally  that  her  nature  was  cold  and  unresponsive. 
And  yet  her  very  reserve  and  elusiveness  increased  his  passion, 
which  daily  acquired  a  stronger  mastery.  Webb  alone  half 
guessed  the  truth  in  regard  to  her.  As  time  passed,  and  he  saw 
the  increasing  evidences  of  Burt's  feeling,  he  was  careful  that 
his  manner  should  be  strictly  fraternal  towards  Amy,  for  his 
impetuous  brother  was  not  always  disposed  to  be  reasonable 
even  in  his  normal  condition,  and  now  he  was  afflicted  with  a 
malady  that  has  often  brought  to  shame  the  wisdom  of  the 
wisest.  The  elder  brother  saw  how  easily  Burt's  jealousy  could 
be  aroused,  and  therefore  denied  himself  many  an  hour  of  the 
young  girl's  society,  although  it  caused  him  a  strange  little 
heartache  to  do  so.  But  he  was  very  observant,  for  Amy  was 
becoming  a  deeply  interesting  study.  He  saw  and  appreciated 
her  delicate  fence  with  Burt,  in  which  tact,  kindness,  and  a 
little  girlish  brusqueness  were  almost  equally  blended.  Was  it 
the  natural  coyness  of  a  high-spirited  girl,  who  could  be  won 
only  by  long  and  patient  effort?  or  was  it  an  instinctive  self-de- 
fence from  a  suit  that  she  could  not  repulse  decisively  without 
giving  pain  to  those  she  loved?  Why  was  she  so  averse? 


222  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Their  home -life,  even  at  that  busy  season,  gave  him  opportuni- 
ties to  see  her  often,  and  glimmerings  of  the  truth  began  to 
dawn  upon  him.  He  saw  that  she  enjoyed  the  society  of  Alf 
and  Johnnie  almost  as  much  as  that  of  the  other  members  of 
the  family,  that  her  delight  at  every  new  manifestation  of  spring 
was  as  unforced  as  that  of  the  children,  while  at  the  same  time 
it  was  an  intelligent  and  questioning  interest.  The  beauty  of 
the  world  without  impressed  her  deeply,  as  it  did  Johnnie,  but 
to  the  latter  it  was  a  matter  of  course,  while  to  Amy  it  was  be- 
coming an  inviting  mystery.  The  little  girl  would  bring  some 
new  flower  from  the  woods  or  garden,  the  first  of  the  season,  in 
contented  triumph,  but  to  Amy  the  flower  had  a  stronger  inter- 
est. It  represented  something  unknown,  a  phase  of  life  which  it 
was  the  impulse  of  her  developing  mind  to  explore.  Her  botany 
was  not  altogether  satisfactory,  for  analysis  and  classification  do 
not  reveal  to  us  a  flower  or  plant  any  more  than  the  mention  of 
a  name  and  family  connection  makes  known  individual  character. 
Her  love  for  natural  objects  was  too  real  to  be  satisfied  with  a  few 
scientific  facts  about  them.  If  a  plant,  tree,  or  bird  interested 
her  she  would  look  at  it  with  a  loving,  lingering  glance  until  she 
felt  that  she  was  learning  to  know  it  somewhat  as  she  would 
recognize  a  friend.  The  rapid  changes  which  each  day  brought 
were  like  new  chapters  in  a  story,  or  new  verses  in  a  poem. 
She  watched  with  admiring  wonder  the  transition  of  buds  into 
blossoms  ;  and  their  changes  of  form  and  color.  She  shared  in 
AlPs  excitement  over  the  arrival  of  every  new  bird  from  the 
South,  and,  having  a  good  ear  for  music,  found  absorbing  pleas- 
ure in  learning  and  estimating  the  quality  and  characteristics  of 
their  various  songs.  Their  little  oddities  appealed  to  her  sense 
of  humor.  A  pair  of  cat-birds  that  had  begun  their  nest  near 
the  house  received  from  her  more  ridicule  than  admiration. 
"  They  seem  to  be  regular  society  birds  and  gossips,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  can  never  step-  out-of-doors  but  I  feel  that  they  are 
watching  me,  and  trying  to  attract  my  attention.  They  have  a 
pretty  song,  but  they  seem  to  have  learned  it  by  heart,  and  as 


MA  Y  AND  GIRLHOOD.  22$ 

soon  as  they  are  through  they  make  that  horrid  noise,  as  if  in 
their  own  natural  tone  they  were  saying  something  disagreeable 
about  you." 

But  on  the  morning  of  Johnnie's  coronation  she  was  wak- 
ened by  songs  as  entrancing  as  they  were  unfamiliar.  Running 
to  the  window,  she  saw  darting  through  the  trees  birds  of  such 
a  brilliant  flame  color  that  they  seemed  direct  from  the  tropics, 
and  their  notes  were  almost  as  varied  as  their  colors.  She 
speedily  ceased  to  heed  them,  however,  for  from  the  edge  of 
the  nearest -grove  came  a  melody  so  ethereal  and  sustained  that 
it  thrilled  her  with  the  delight  that  one  experiences  when  some 
great  singer  lifts  up  her  voice  with  a  power  and  sweetness  that 
we  feel  to  be  divine.  At  the  same  moment  she  saw  Alf  run- 
ning towards  the  house.  Seeing  her  at  the  window,  he  shouted, 
"  Amy,  the  orioles  and  the  wood-thrushes  —  the  finest  birds  of 
the  year  —  have  come.  Hurry  up  and  go  with  me  to  the  grove 
yonder." 

Soon  after  Webb,  returning  from  a  distant  field  to  breakfast, 
met  her  near  the  grove.  She  was  almost  as  breathless  and  ex- 
cited as  the  boy,  and  passed  him  with  a  bright  hurried  smile, 
while  she  pressed  on  after  her  guide  with  noiseless  steps  lest 
the  shy  songster  should  be  frightened.  He  looked  after  her 
and  listened,  feeling  that  eye  and  ear  could  ask  for  no  fuller 
enchantment.  At  last  she  came  back  to  him  with  the  fresh 
loveliness  of  the  morning  in  her  face,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  have 
seen  an  ideal  bird,  and  he  wears  his  plumage  like  a  quiet- toned 
elegant  costume  that  simply  suggests  a  perfect  form.  He  was 
superbly  indifferent,  and  scarcely  looked  at  us  until  we  came 
too  near,  and  then,  with  a  reserved  dignity,  flew  away.  He  is 
the  true  poet  of  the  woods,  and  would  sing  just  as  sweetly  if 
there  was  never  a  listener." 

"  I  knew  he  would  not  disappoint  you.  Yes,  he  is  a  poet, 
and  your  true  aristocrat,  who  commands  admiration  without 
seeking  it,"  Webb  replied. 

"  I  am  sure  he  justifies  all  your  praises,  past  and  present. 


224  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Oh,  isn't  the  morning  lovely  —  so  fresh,  dewy,  and  fragrant? 
and  the  world  looks  so  young  and  glad  !  " 

"  You  also  look  young  and  glad  this  morning,  Amy." 

"  How  can  one  help  it?  This  May  beauty  makes  me  feel  as 
young  as  Alf,"  she  replied,  placing  her  hand  on  the  boy's 
shoulder. 

Her  face  was  flushed  with  exercise  ;  her  step  buoyant ;  her 
eyes  were  roaming  over  the  landscape  tinted  with  fruit  blossoms 
arid  the  expanding  foliage.  Webb  saw  in  what  deep  accord  her 
spirit  was  with  the  season,  and  he  thought,  "She  is  young — in 
the  very  May  of  her  life.  She  is  scarcely  more  ready  for  the 
words  that  Burt  would  speak  than  little  Johnnie.  I  wish  he 
would  wait  till  the  girl  becomes  a  woman ;  "  and  then  for  some 
reason  he  sighed  deeply.  Amy  gave  him  an  arch  look,  and 
said, 

"  That  came  from  the  depths,  Webb.  What  secret  sorrow 
can  you  have  on  a  day  like  this? " 

He  laughed,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Ah,  listen  !"  she  cried,  "what  bird  is  that?  Oh,  isn't  it 
beautiful  ?  —  almost  equal  to  the  thrush's  song.  He  seems  to 
sing  as  if  his  notes  were  written  for  him  in  couplets."  She 
spoke  at  intervals,  looking  towards  the  grove  they  had  just  left, 
and  when  the  bird  paused  Webb  replied, 

"That  is  the  wood-thrush's  own  cousin,  and  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  thrush  family,  the  brown-thrasher.  Well,  John- 
nie," he  added,  to  the  little  girl  who  had  come  to  meet  them, 
"  you  are  honored  to-day.  Three  of  our  most  noted  minstrels 
have  arrived  just  in  time  to  furnish  music  for  the  May  Queen." 

But  Johnnie  was  not  surprised,  only  pleased,  as  Webb  and 
others  congratulated  her.  She  would  be  queen  that  day  with 
scarcely  more  self-consciousness  than  one  of  the  flowers  that 
decked  her.  It  was  the  occasion,  the  carnival  of  spring,  that 
occupied  her  thoughts,  and,  since  the  fairest  blossoms  of  the 
season  were  to  be  gathered,  why  should  not  the  finest  birds  be 
present  also? 


MA  Y  AND  GIRLHOOD.  22$ 

Feeling  that  he  had  lost  an  opportunity  in  the  improvised 
festival  of  the  maple-sugar  grove,  Burt  resolved  to  make  the 
most  of  this  occasion,  and  he  had  the  wisdom  to  decide  upon 
a  course  that  relieved  Amy  of  not  a  little  foreboding.  He  de- 
termined to  show  his  devotion  by  thoughtful  considerateness, 
by  making  the  day  so  charming  and  satisfactory  as  to  prove 
that  he  could  be  a  companion  after  her  own  heart.  And  he 
succeeded  fairly  well  for  a  time,  only  the  girl's  intuition  divined 
his  motive  and  guessed  his  sentiments.  She  was  ever  in  fear 
that  his  restraint  would  give  way.  And  yet  she  felt  that  she 
ought  to  reward  him  for  what  she  mentally  termed  his  "  sensible 
behavior,"  a.nd  indicate  that  such  should  be  his  course  in  the 
future.  But  this  was  a  delicate  and  difficult  task.  In  spite  of 
all  the  accumulated  beauty  of  the  season  the  day  was  less  bright, 
less  full  of  the  restful,  happy  abandon  of  the  previous  one  in 
March,  when  Webb  had  been  her  undemonstrative  attendant. 
He,  with  Leonard,  at  that  busy  period  found  time  to  look  in 
upon  the  revellers  in  the  woods  but  once.  Mr.  Clifford  spent 
more  time  with  them,  but  the  old  gentleman  was  governed  by 
his  habit  of  promptness,  and  the  time  called  for  despatch. 

For  the  children,  however,  it  was  a  revel  that  left  nothing  to 
be  desired.  They  had  decided  that  it  should  be  a  congress  of 
flowers,  from  the  earliest  that  had  bloomed  to  those  now  open- 
ing in  the  sunniest  haunts.  Alf,  with  one  or  two  other  adven- 
turous boys,  had  climbed  the  northern  face  of  old  Storm  King, 
and  brought  away  the  last  hepaticas,  fragrant  clusters  of  arbutus, 
and  dicentras,  for  "  pattykers,  arbuties,  and  Butcher's  breeches," 
as  Ned  called  them,  were  favorites  that  could  not  be  spared. 
On  a  sunny  slope  dogwood,  well  advanced,  was  found.  There 
were  banks  white  with  the  rue-anemone,  and  they  were  marked, 
that  some  of  the  little  tuber-like  roots  might  be  taken  up  in  the 
fall  for  forcing  in  the  house.  Myriads  of  violets  gave  a  purple 
tinge  to  parts  of  a  low  meadow  near,  and  chubby  hands  were 
stained  with  the  last  of  the  star-like  bloodroot  blossoms,  many 
of  which  dropped  white  petals  on  their  way  to  Johnnie's  throne. 


226  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Some  brought  handfuls  of  columbine  from  rocky  nooks,  and 
others  the  purple  trillium,  that  is  near  of  kin  to  Burroughs's 
white  "  wake-robin."  There  were  so  many  Jacks-in-the-pulpit 
that  one  might  fear  a  controversy,  but  the  innumerable  dande- 
lions and  dogtooth  violets  which  carpeted  the  ground  around 
the  throne  diffused  so  mellow  a  light  that  all  the  blossoms  felt 
that  they  looked  well  and  were  amiable.  But  it  would  require 
pages  even  to  mention  all  the  flowers  that  were  brought  from 
gardens,  orchards,  meadows,  groves,  and  rugged  mountain 
slopes.  Each  delegation  of  blossoms  and  young  tinted  foliage 
was  received  by  Amy,  as  mistress  of  ceremonies,  and  arranged 
in  harmonious  positions ;  while  Johnnie,  quite  forgetful  of  her 
royalty,  was  as  ready  to  help  at  anything  as  the  humblest  maid 
of  honor.  All  the  flowers  were  treated  tenderly  except  the 
poor  purple  violets,  and  these  were  slaughtered  by  hundreds, 
for  the  projecting  spur  under  the  curved  stem  at  the  base  of 
the  flower  enabled  the  boys  to  hook  them  together,  and  "  fight 
roosters,"  as  they  termed  it.  Now  and  then  some  tough- 
stemmed  violet  would  "  hook  off"  a  dozen  blue  heads  before 
losing  its  own,  and  it  became  the  temporary  hero.  At  last  the 
little  queen  asserted  her  power  by  saying,  with  a  sudden  flash 
in  her  dark  blue  eyes,  that  she  "  wouldn't  have  any  more  fight- 
ing roosters.  She  didn't  think  it  was  nice." 

"  By  one  o'clock  the  queen  had  been  crowned,  the  lunch  had 
met  the  capacity  of  even  the  boys,  and  the  children,  circling 
round  the  throne,  were  singing :  "  Oats,  peas,  beans,  and  bar- 
ley grows,"  and  kindred  rhymes,  their  voices  rising  and  falling 
with  the  breeze,  the  birds  warbling  an  accompaniment.  Webb 
and  Leonard,  at  work  in  a  field  not  far  away,  often  paused  to 
listen,  the  former  never  failing  to  catch  Amy's  clear  notes  as  she 
sat  on  a  rock,  the  gentle  power  behind  the  throne,  that  had 
maintained  peace  and  good-will  among  all  the  little  fractious 
subjects. 

The  day  had  grown  almost  sultry,  and  early  in  the  afternoon 
there  was  a  distant  jar  of  thunder.  Burt,  who  from  a  bed  of 


MAY  AND  GIRLHOOD.  22^ 

dry  leaves  had  been  watching  Amy,  started  up  and  saw  that 
there  was  an  ominous  cloud  in  the  west.  She  agreed  with  him 
that  it  would  be  prudent  to  return  at  once,  for  she  was  growing 
weary  and  depressed.  Burt,  with  all  his  effort  to  be  quietly  and 
unobtrusively  devoted,  had  never  permitted  her  to  become  un- 
conscious of  his  presence  and  feeling.  Therefore  her  experi- 
ence had  been  a  divided  one.  She  could  not  abandon  herself 
to  her  hearty  sympathy  with  the  children  and  their  pleasure,  for 
he,  by  manner  at  least,  ever  insisted  that  she  was  a  young  lady, 
and  the  object  of  thoughts  all  too  warm.  Her  nature  was  so 
fine  that  it  was  wounded  and  annoyed  by  an  unwelcome  admi- 
ration. She  did  not  wish  to  think  about  it,  but  was  not  per- 
mitted to  forget  it.  She  had  been  genial,  merry,  yet  guarded 
towards  him  all  day,  and  now  had  begun  to  long  for  the  rest 
and  refuge  of  her  own  room.  He  felt  that  he  had  not  made 
progress,  and  was  also  depressed,  and  he  showed  this  so  plainly 
on  their  way  home  that  she  was  still  more  perplexed  and 
troubled.  "  If  he  would  only  be  sensible,  and  treat  me  as 
Webb  does  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  threw  herself  on  the  lounge 
in  her  room,  exhausted  rather  than  exhilarated  by  the  experi- 
ence of  the  day. 


NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

NATURE'S  WORKSHOP. 

DURING  the  hour  she  slept  an  ideal  shower  crossed  the  sky. 
In  the  lower  strata  of  air  there  was  scarcely  any  wind,  and 
the  rain  came  down  vertically,  copiously,  and  without  beating 
violence.  The  sun-warmed  earth  took  in  every  drop  like  a  great 
sponge.  Beyond  the  first  muttered  warning  to  the  little  May 
party  in  the  grove  there  was  no  thunder.  The  patter  of  the 
rain  was  a  gentle  lullaby  to  Amy,  and  at  last  she  was  wakened 
by  a  ray  of  sunlight  playing  upon  her  face,  yet  she  still  heard 
the  soft  fall  of  rain.  With  the  elasticity  of  youth,  she  sprang 
up,  feeling  that  the  other  cloud  that  had  shadowed  her  thoughts 
might  soon  pass  also.  As  she  went  singing  down  the  stairway, 
Webb  called  from  the  front  door  : 

"  Amy,  look  here  !  I  was  hoping  you  would  come  See 
that  rainbow."  The  cloud  still  hung  heavily  over  the  eastern 
mountains,  while  against  it  was  a  magnificent  arch,  and  so  dis- 
tinctly defined  that  its  feet  appeared  to  rest  on  the  two  banks 
of  the  river.  They  watched  it  in  silence  until  it  faded  away, 
and  the  whole  scene,  crowned  with  flowers  and  opening  foliage 
tinted  like  blossoms  of  varied  hues,  was  gemmed  with  crystals 
by  the  now  unclouded  sun,  for  the  soft  rain  had  clung  to  every- 
thing, from  the  loftiest  tree-top  to  the  tiniest  spire  of  grass. 
Flame-like  orioles  were  flashing  through  the  perfumed  air. 
Robins,  with  their  heads  lifted  heavenward,  were  singing  as 
rapturously  as  if  they  were  saints  rather  than  rollicking  gorman- 
dizers. Every  bird  that  had  a  voice  was  lifting  it  up  in  thanks- 


NATURE'S   WORKSHOP.  229 

giving,  but  clear,  sweet,  and  distinct  above  them  all  came  the 
notes  of  the  wood-thrush,  with  his  Beethoven-like  melody. 

"Have  you  no  words  for  a  scene  like  this,  Webb?"  she 
asked,  at  last. 

"  It  is  beyond  all  words,  Amy.  It  is  one  of  nature's  miracles. 
My  wonder  exceeds  even  my  admiration,  for  the  greater  part 
of  this  infinite  variety  of  beauty  is  created  out  of  so  few  mate- 
rials and  by  so  simple  yet  mysterious  a  method  that  I  can 
scarcely  believe  it,  although  I  see  it  and  know  it.  Men  have 
always  agreed  to  worship  the  genius  which  could  achieve  the 
most  with  the  least.  And  yet  the  basis  of  nearly  all  we  see  is  a 
microscopic  cell  endowed  with  essential  powers.  .  That  large 
apple-tree  yonder,  whose  buds  are  becoming  so  pink,  started 
from  one  of  these  minute  cells,  and  all  the  growth,  beauty,  and 
fruitfulness  since  attained  were  the  result  of  the  power  of  this 
one  cell  to  add  to  itself  myriads  of  like  cells,  which  form  the 
whole  structure.  It  is  cell  adding  cells  that  is  transforming 
the  world  around  us."  He  spoke  earnestly,  and  almost  as  if  he 
were  thinking  aloud,  and  he  looked  like  one  in  the  presence  of 
a  mystery  that  awed  him.  The  hue  of  Amy's  eyes  deepened, 
and  her  face  flushed  in  her  quickened  interest.  Her  own  mind 
had  been  turning  to  kindred  thoughts  and  questionings.  She 
had  passed  beyond  the  period  when  a  mind  like  hers  could  be 
satisfied  with  the  mere  surface  of  things,  and  Webb's  direct  ap- 
proach to  the  very  foundation  principles  of  what  she  saw  sent  a 
thrill  through  all  her  nerves  as  an  heroic  deed  would  have  done. 

"  Can  you  not  show  me  one  of  those  cells  with  your  micro- 
scope?" she  asked,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  easily,  and  some  of  its  contents  through  the  cell's 
transparent  walls,  as,  for  instance,  the  minute  grains  of  chloro- 
phyll, that  is,  the  green  of  leaves.  All  the  hues  of  foliage  and 
flowers  are  caused  by  what  the  cells  contain,  and  these,  to  a 
certain  extent,  can  be  seen  and  analyzed.  But  there  is  one  thing 
within  the  cell  which  I  cannot  show  you,  and  which  has  never 
been  seen,  and  yet  it  accounts  for  everything,  and  is  the  archi- 


230  NATURES  SERIAL  STORY. 

tect  of  all  — life.  When  we  reach  the  cell  we  are  at  the  thresh- 
old of  this  mysterious  presence.  We  know  that  it  is  within. 
We  can  see  its  work,  for  its  workshop  is  under  our  eye,  and  in 
this  minute  shop  it  is  building  all  the  vegetation  of  the  world, 
but  the  artisan  itself  ever  remains  invisible." 

"  Ah,  Webb,  do  not  say  artisan,  but  rather  artist.  Does  not 
the  beauty  all  around  us  prove  it?  Surely  there  is  but  one  ex- 
planation, the  one  papa  taught  me  :  it  is  the  power  of  God. 
He  is  in  the  little  as  well  as  in  the  great.  Do  you  not  believe 
so,  Webb?" 

"  Well,  Amy,"  he  replied,  smilingly,  "  the  faith  taught  you  by 
your  father  is,  to  my  mind,  more  rational  than  any  of  the  ex- 
planations that  I  have  read,  and  I  have  studied  several.  But 
then  I  know  little,  indeed,  compared  with  multitudes  of  others. 
I  am  sure,  however,  that  the  life  of  God  is  in  some  way  the 
source  of  all  the  life  we  see.  But  perplexing  questions  arise  on 
every  side.  Much  of  life  is  so  repulsive  and  noxious  —  But 
there  !  what  a  fog-bank  I  am  leading  you  into  this  crystal  May 
evening  !  Most  young  girls  would  vote  me  an  insufferable  bore 
should  I  talk  to  them  in  this  style." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  the  young  girls  then.  I  should  think 
they  would  feel  that  no  compliment  could  exceed  that  of  being 
talked  to  as  if  they  had  brains.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  put  on 
learned  airs.  You  know  how  ignorant  I  am  of  even  the  begin- 
nings of  this  knowledge.  All  that  I  can  say  is  that  I  am  not 
content  to  be  ignorant.  The  curiosity  of  Mother  Eve  is  grow- 
ing stronger  every  day ;  and  is  it  strange  that  it  should  turn 
towards  the  objects,  so  beautiful  and  yet  so  mysterious,  that 
meet  my  eyes  on  every  side?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  musingly,  "the  strange  thing  is  that  people 
have  so  little  curiosity  in  regard  to  their  surroundings.  Why, 
multitudes  of  intelligent  persons  are  almost  as  indifferent  as  the 
cattle  that  browse  around  among  the  trees  and  flowers.  But  I 
am  a  sorry  one  to  preach.  I  once  used  to  investigate  things, 
but  did  not  see  them.  I  have  thought  about  it  very  much  this 


NA TURK'S   WORKSHOP 


231 


spring.  It  is  said  that  great  painters  and  sculptors  study  anatomy 
as  well  as  outward  form.  Perhaps  here  is  a  good  hint  for  those 
who  are  trying  to  appreciate  nature.  I  am  not  so  shallow  as  to 
imagine  that  I  can  ever  understand  nature  any  more  than  I  can 
you  with  your  direct,  honest  gaze.  So  to  the  thoughtful  mystery 
is  ever  close  at  hand,  but  it  seems  no  little  thing  to  trace  back 


BLOSSOM-TIME. 

what  one  sees  as  far  as  one  can,  and  you  have  made  me  feel 
that  it  is  a  great  thing  to  see  the  Divine  Artist's  finished 
work." 

They  were  now  joined  by  others,  and  the  perfect  beauty  of 
the  evening  as  it  slowly  faded  into  night  attracted  much  atten- 
tion from  all  the  family.  The  new  moon  hung  in  the  afterglow 
of  the  western  sky,  and  as  the  dusk  deepened  the  weird  notes 


232  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

of  the  whip-poor-will  were  heard  for  the  first  time  from  the 
mountain-sides. 

At  the  supper-table  Leonard  beamed  on  every  one.  "  A 
rain  like  this,  after  a  week  of  sunshine  has*warmed  the  earth," 
he  exclaimed,  "  is  worth  millions  to  the  country.  We  can  plant 
our  corn  next  week." 

"  Yes,"  added  his  father,  "  the  old  Indian  sign,  the  unfolding 
of  the  oak  leaves,  indicates  that  it  is  now  safe  to  plant.  Next 
week  will  be  a  busy  one.  After  long  years  of  observation,  I 
am  satisfied  that  the  true  secret  of  success  in  farming  is  the 
doing  of  everything  at  just  the  right  time.  Crops  put  in  too 
early  or  too  late  often  partially  fail ;  but  if  the  right  conditions 
are  complied  with  from  the  beginning,  they  start  with  a  vigor 
which  is  not  lost  until  maturity." 

Burt  indulged  in  a  gayety  that  was  phenomenal  even  for  him, 
but  after  supper  he  disappeared.  Amy  retired  to  her  room 
early,  but  she  sat  a  long  time  at  her  window  and  looked  out 
into  the  warm,  fragrant  night.  She  had  forgotten  poor  Burt, 
who  was  thinking  of  her,  as  in  his  unrest  he  rode  mile  after 
mile,  holding  his  spirited  horse  down  to  a  walk.  She  had 
almost  forgotten  Webb,  but  she  thought  deeply  of  his  words, 
of  the  life  that  was  working  all  around  her  so  silently  and  yet 
so  powerfully.  Unseen  it  had  created  the  beauty  she  had 
enjoyed  that  day.  From  the  very  contrast  of  ideas  it  made 
her  think  of  death,  of  her  father,  who  once  had  been  so  strong 
and  full  of  life.  The  mystery  of  one  seemed  as  great  as  that 
of  the  other,  and  a  loneliness  such  as  she  had  not  felt  before 
for  months  depressed  her.  "  I  wish  I  could  talk  to  Webb 
again,"  she  thought.  "  He  says  he  does  not  understand  me. 
Little  wonder ;  I  do  not  understand  myself.  It  would  seem 
that  when  one  began  to  think  nothing  that  appeared  simple 
before  is  understood ;  but  his  words  are  strong  and  assured. 
He  leads  one  to  the  boundaries  of  the  known,  and  then  says, 
quretlyj  we  can  go  no  farther ;  but  he  makes  you  feel  that  what 
is  beyond  is  all  right.  Oh,  I  wish  Burt  was  like  him  !  " 


SPRING-TIME  PASSION.  233 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

SPRING-TIME   PASSION. 

BUT  little  chance  had  Amy  to  talk  with  Webb  for  the  next 
few  days.  He  had  seen  the  cloud  on  Burt's  brow,  and 
had  observed  that  he  was  suspicious,  unhappy,  and  irritable  ; 
that  reason  and  good  sense  were  not  in  the  ascendant ;  and  he 
understood  his  brother  sufficiently  well  to  believe  that  his  attack 
must  run  its  natural  course,  as  like  fevers  had  done  before. 
From  what  he  had  seen  he  also  thought  that  Amy  could  deal 
with  Burt  better  than  any  one  else,  for  although  high-strung,  he 
was  also  manly  and  generous  when  once  he  got  his  bearings. 
In  his  present  mood  he  would  bitterly  resent  interference  from 
any  one,  but  would  be  bound  to  obey  Amy  and  to  respect  her 
wishes.  Therefore  he  took  especial  pains  to  be  most  kindly, 
but  also  to  appear  busy  and  pre-occupied. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  Burt  was  offensive  or  even  openly 
obtrusive  in  his  attentions.  He  was  far  too  well-bred  for  that. 
There  was  nothing  for  which  even  his  mother  could  reprove 
him,  or  of  which  Amy  herself  could  complain.  It  was  the  suit 
itself  from  which  she  shrank,  or  rather  which  she  would  put 
off  indefinitely.  But  Burt  was  not  disposed  to  put  anything 
that  he  craved  into  the  distance.  Spring-tide  impulses  were  in 
his  veins,  and  his  heart  was  so  overcharged  that  it  must  find 
expression.  His  opportunity  came  unexpectedly.  A  long, 
exquisite  day  had  merged  into  a  moonlight  evening.  '  The 
apple-blossoms  were  in  all  their  white-and-pink  glory,  and  filled 
the  summer-like  air  with  a  fragrance  as  delicate  as  that  of  the 


234  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

arbutus.  The  petals  of  the  cherry  were  floating  down  like 
snow  in  every  passing  breeze,  glimmering  momentarily  in  the 
pale  radiance.  The  night  was  growing  so  beautiful  that  Amy 
was  tempted  to  stroll  out  in  the  grounds,  and  soon  she  yielded 
to  a  fancy  to  see  the  effect  of  moonlight  through  an  apple-tree 
that  towered  like  a  mound  of  snow  at  some  little  distance  from 
vthe  house.  She  would  not  have  been  human  had  the  witchery 
of  the  May  evening  been  without  its  influence.  If  Burt  could 
have  understood  her,  this  was  his  opportunity.  If  he  had  come 
with  step  and  tone  that  accorded  with  the  quiet  evening,  and 
simply  said,  "  Amy,  you  know — you  have  seen  that  I  love  you ; 
what  hope  can  you  give  me?"  she  in  her  present  mood  would 
have  answered  him  as  gently  and  frankly  as  a  child.  She  might 
have  laughingly  pointed  him  to  the  tree,  and  said  :  "  See,  it  is 
in  blossom  now.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  pick  the 
apples.  You  must  wait.  If  you  will  be  sensible,  and  treat  me 
as  you  would  Johnnie,  were  she  older,  I  will  ride  and  walk  with 
you,  and  be  as  nice  to  you  as  I  can." 

But  this  Burt  could  not  do  and  still  remain  Burt.  He  was 
like  an  overcharged  cloud,  and  when  he  spoke  at  last  his  words 
seemed  to  the  sensitive  girl  to  have  the  vividness  and  abrupt- 
ness of  the  lightning.  It  was  her  custom  to  make  a  special 
toilet  for  the  evening,  and  when  she  had  come  down  to  supper 
with  a  rose  in  her  hair,  and  dressed  in  some  light  clinging 
fabric,  she  had  proved  so  attractive  to  the  young  fellow  that  he 
felt  that  the  limit  of  his  restraint  was  reached.  He  would 
appeal  to  her  so  earnestly,  so  passionately,  as  to  kindle  her  cold 
nature.  In  his  lack  of  appreciation  of  Amy  he  had  come  to 
deem  this  his  true  course,  and  she  unconsciously  enabled  him 
to  carry  out  the  rash  plan.  He  had  seen  her  stroll  away,  and 
had  followed  her  until  she  should  be  so  far  from  the  house  that 
she  must  listen.  As  shg.  emerged  from  under  the  apple-tree, 
through  which  as  a  \vhj£e  cloud  she  had  been  looking  at  the 
moon,  he  appeared  so  suddenly  as  to  startle  her,  and  without 
any  gentle  re-assurance  he  seized  her  hand,  and  poured  out 


SPRING-TIME  PASSION.  235 

his  feelings  in  a  way  that  at  first  wounded  and  frightened 
her. 

"  Hurt,"  she  cried,  "why  do  you  speak  to  me  so?  Can't 
you  see  that  I  do  not  feel  as  you  do?  I've  given  you  no  reason 
to  say  such  words  to  me." 

"  Have  you  no  heart,  Amy?  Are  you  as  cold  and  elusive  as  this 
moonlight?  I  have  waited  patiently,  and  now  I  must  and  will 
speak.  Every  man  has  a  right  to  speak  and  a  right  to  an  answer"." 

"  Well  then,"  she  replied,  her  spirit  rising,  "  if  you  will  insist 
on  my  being  a  woman  instead  of  a  young  girl  just  coming  from 
the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow,  I  also  have  my  rights.  I've  tried 
to  show  you  gently  and  with  all  the  tact  I  possessed  that  I  did 
not  want  to  think  about  such  things.  I'm  just  at  the  beginning 
of  my  girlhood  and  I  want  to  be  a  young  girl  as  long  as  I  can 
and  not  an  engaged  young  woman.  No  matter  who  spoke  the 
words  you  have  said,  they  would  pain  me.  Why  couldn't  you 
see  this  from  my  manner  and  save  both  yourself  and  me  from 
this  scene  ?  I'll  gladly  be  your  loving  sister,  but  you  must  not 
speak  to  me  in  this  way  again." 

"  You  refuse  me  then,"  he  said,  throwing  back  his  head 
haughtily. 

"  Refuse  you?  No.  I  simply  tell  you  that  I  won't  listen  to 
such  words  from  any  one.  Why  can't  you  be  sensible  and 
understand  me  ?  I  no  more  wish  to  talk  about  such  things  than 
do  Alf  and  Johnnie." 

"  I  do  understand  you,"  he  exclaimed,  passionately,  "  and 
better  perhaps  than  you  understand  yourself.  You  are  not  a 
child.  You  are  a  woman,  but  you  seem  to  lack  a  woman's 
heart,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  ;  "  and  with  a  gesture  that  was 
very  tragic  and  despairing  he  strode  away.  - 

She  was  deeply  troubled  and  incensed  also,  and  she  returned 
to  the  house  with  drooping  head  and  fast-falling  tears. 

"Why,  Amy,  what  is  the  matter ?"*„  Looking  up,  she  saw 
Webb  coming  down  the  piazza  steps.  Yielding  to  her  impulse, 
she  sprang  forward  and  took  his  arm,  as  she  said : 


236  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"Webb,  you  have  always  acted  towards  me  like  a  brother. 
Tell  me  true  :  am  I  cold  ?  am  I  heartless  ?  is  it  unnatural  in 
me  that  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  such  words  as  Burt  would  speak 
to-night  ?  All  I  ask  is  that  he  will  let  me  stay  a  happy  young 
girl  till  I  am  ready  for  something  else.  This  is  no  way  for  a 
flower  to  bloom  "  —  she  snatched  the  rose  from  her  hair,  and 
pushed  open  the  red  petals  — "  and  yet  Burt  expects  me  to 
respond  at  once  to  feelings  that  I  do  not  even  understand.  If 
it's  best  in  the  future  —  but  surely  I've  a  right  to  my  freedom 
for  a  long  time  yet.  Tell  me,  do  you  think  I'm  unnatural  ?  " 

"  No,  Amy,"  he  answered,  gently.  "  It  is  because  you  are  so 
perfectly  natural,  so  true  to  your  girlhood,  that  you  feel  as  you 
do.  In  that  little  parable  of  the  rose  you  explain  yourself 
fully.  You  have  no  cause  for  self-reproach,  nor  has  Burt  for 
complaint.  Will  you  do  what  I  ask?  " 

"  Yes,  Webb.  You  say  you  do  not  understand  me,  and  yet 
always  prove  that  you  do.  If  Burt  would  only  treat  me  as  you 
do,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy." 

"  Well,  Burt's  good-hearted,  but  sometimes  he  mislays  his 
judgment,"  said  Webb,  laughing.  "  Come,  cheer  up.  There  is 
no  occasion  for  any  high  tragedy  on  his  part  or  for  grieving  on 
yours.  You  go  and  tell  mother  all  about  it,  and  just  how  you 
feel.  She  is  the  right  one  to  manage  this  affair,  and  her  in- 
fluence over  Burt  is  almost  unbounded.  Do  this,  and,  take  my 
word  for  it,  all  will  soon  be  serene." 

And  so  it  proved.  Amy  felt  that  night  what  it  is  to  have  a 
mother's  boundless  love  and  sympathy,  and  she  went  to  her 
rest  comforted,  soothed,  and  more  assured  as"  to  the  future  than 
she  had  been  for  a  long  time.  "  How  quiet  and  sensible  Webb 
was  about  it  all !  "  was  her  last  smiling  thought  before  she  slept. 
His  thought  as  he  strolled  away  in  the  moonlight  after  she  left 
him  was,  "  It  is  just  as  I  half  believed.  She  has  the  mind  of  a 
woman,  but  the  heart  of  a  child.  How  apt  was  her  use  of  that 
rose  !  It  told  alt." 

Burt  did  not  stroll ;  he  strode  mile  after  mile,  and  the  un- 


SPRING-TIME  PASSION.  237 

comfortable  feeling  that  he  had  been  very  unwise,  to  say  the 
least,  and  perhaps  very  unjust,  was  growing  upon  him.  When 
at  last  he  returned,  his  mother  called  to  him  through  the  open 
door.  Sooner  or  later,  Mrs.  Clifford  always  obtained  the  con- 
fidence of  her  children,  and  they  ever  found  that  it  was  sacred. 
All  that  can  be  said,  therefore,  was,  that  he  came  from  her  pres- 
ence penitent,  ashamed,  and  hopeful.  His  mood  may  best  be 
explained,  perhaps,  by  a  note  written  before  he  retired.  "  My 
dear  sister  Amy,"  it  ran,  "  I  wish  to  ask  your  pardon.  I  have 
been  unjust  and  ungenerous.  I  was  so  blinded  and  engrossed 
by  my  own  feelings  that  I  did  not  understand  you.  I  have 
proved  myself  unworthy  of  even  a  sister's  love ;  but  I  will  try 
to  make  amends.  Do  not  judge  me  harshly  because  I  was  so 
headlong.  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  disguise  the  truth. 
What  I  have  said  so  unwisely  and  prematurely  I  cannot  unsay, 
and  I  shall  always  be  true  to  my  words.  But  I  will  wait 
patiently  as  long  as  you  please ;  and  if  you  find,  in  future  years, 
that  you  cannot  feel  as  I  do,  I  will  not  complain  or  blame  you, 
however  sad  the  truth  may  be  to  me.  In  the  meantime,  let 
there  be  no  constraint  between  us.  Let  me  become  once  more 
your  trusted  brother  Burt."  This  note  he  pushed  under  her 
door,  and  then  slept  too  soundly  for  the  blighted  youth  he  had 
a  few  hours  before  deemed  himself. 

He  felt  a  little  embarrassed  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  her 
the  next  morning,  but  she  broke  the  ice  at  once  by  coming  to 
him  on  the  piazza  and  extending  her  hand  in  smiling  frankness 
as  she  said  :  "  You  are  neither  unjust  nor  ungenerous,  Burt,  or 
you  would  not  have  written  me  such  a  note.  I  take  you  at 
your  word.  As  you  said  the  first  evening  I  came,  we  shall  have 
jolly  times  together." 

The  young  fellow  was  immensely  relieved  and  grateful,  and 
he  showed  it.  Soon  afterwards  he  went  about  the  affairs  of  the 
day  happier  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time.  Indeed,  it  soon 
became  evident  that  his  explosion  on  the  previous  evening  had 
cleared  the  air  generally.  Amy  felt  that  the  one  threatening 


238  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

cloud  had  sunk  below  the  horizon.  As  the  days  passed,  and 
Burt  proved  that  he  could  keep  his  promise,  her  thoughts  grew 
as  serene  as  those  of  Johnnie.  Her  household  duties  were  not 
very  many,  and  yet  she  did  certain  things  regularly.  The  old 
people  found  that  she  rarely  forgot  them,  and  she  had  the  grace  - 
to  see  when  she  could  help  and  cheer.  Attentions  that  must 
be  constantly  asked  for  have  little  charm.  A  day  rarely  passed 
that  she  did  not  give  one  or  more  of  its  best  hours  to  her  music 
and  drawing ;  for,  while  she  never  expected  to  excel  in  these 
arts,  she  had  already  learned  that  they  would  enable  her  to  give 
much  pleasure  to  others.  Her  pencil,  also,  was  of  great  assist- 
ance in  her  study  of  out-door  life,  for  the  fixed  attention  which 
it  required  to  draw  a  plant,  tree,  or  bit  of  scenery  revealed  its 
characteristics.  She  had  been  even  more  interested  in  the 
unfolding  of  the  leaf-buds  than  in  the  flowering  of  the  trees, 
and  the  gradual  advance  of  the  foliage,  like  a  tinted  cloud,  up 
the  mountain-slopes,  was  something  she  never  tired  of  watch- 
ing. When  she  spoke  of  this  one  day  to  Webb,  he  replied  : 

"  I  have  often  wondered  that  more  is  not  said  and  written 
about  our  spring  foliage,  before  it  passes  into  its  general  hue  of 
green.  To  me  it  has  a  more  delicate  beauty  and  charm  than 
anything  seen  in  October.  Different  trees  have  their  distinct 
coloring  now  as  then,  but  it  is  evanescent,  and  the  shades 
usually  are  less  clearly  marked.  This  very  fact,  however, 
teaches  the  eye  to  have  a  nicety  of  distinction  that  is  pleasing." 
The  busy  days  passed  quickly  on.  The  blossoms  faded  from 
the  trees,  and  the  miniature  fruit  was  soon  apparent.  The 
strawberry  rows,  that  had  been  like  lines  of  snow,  were  now 
full  of  little  promising  cones.  The  grass  grew  so  lusty  and 
strong  that  the  dandelions  were  hidden  except  as  the  breeze 
caught  up  the  winged  seeds  that  the  tuneful  yellow-birds  often 
seized  in  the  air.  The  rye  had  almost  reached  its  height,  and 
Johnnie  said  it  was  "  as  good  as  going  to  the  ocean  to  see  it 
.  wave."  At  last  the  swelling  buds  on  the  rose-bushes  proclaimed 
the  advent  of  June. 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  239 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES. 

IT  is  said  that  there  is  no  heaven  anywhere  for  those  incapable 
of  recognizing  and  enjoying  it.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the 
month  of  June  is  a  segment  of  heaven  annually  bestowed  on 
those  whose  eyes  and  ears  have  been  opened  to  beauty  in  sight 
and  sound.  Indeed,  what  sense  in  man  is  not  gratified  to  the 
point  of  imaginary  perfection  during  this  early  fruition  of  the 
varied  promise  of  spring?  Even  to  the  sense  of  touch,  how 
exquisite  is  the  "  feel "  of  the  fragrant  rose-petals,  the  soft 
young  foliage  that  has  transformed  the  world,  and  the  queer 
downy  fledglings  in  innumerable  nests  !  To  the  eye  informed 
by  a  heart  in  love  with  nature  the  longest  days  of  the  year  are 
all  too  short  to  note  half  that  exists  and  takes  place.  Who 
sees  and  distinguishes  the  varied  blossoming  of  the  many  kinds 
of  grain  and  grasses  that  are  waving  in  every  field  ?  And  yet 
here  is  a  beauty  as  distinct  and  delicate  as  can  be  found  in 
some  of  Mendelssohn's  "Songs  without  Words"  —  blossomings 
so  odd,  delicate,  and  evanescent  as  to  suggest  a  child's  dream 
of  a  flower.  Place  them  under  a  strong  glass,  and  who  can  fail 
to  wonder  at  the  miracles  of  form  and  color  that  are  revealed  ? 
From  these  tiny  flowerets  the  scale  runs  upward  until  it  touches 
the  hybrid  rose.  During  this  period,  also,  many  of  the  forest 
trees  emulate  the  wild  flowers  at  their  feet  until  their  inflores- 
cence culminates  in  the  white  cord-like  fringe  that  foretells  the 
spiny  chestnut  burrs. 

So  much  has  been  written  comparing  this  exquisite  season 


240  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

when  spring  passes  insensibly  into  summer  with  the  fulfilled 
prophecy  of  girlhood,  that  no  attempt  shall  be  made  to  repeat 
the  simile.  Amy's  birthday  should  have  been  in  May,  but  it 
came  early  in  June.  May  was  still  in  her  heart,  and  might  lin- 
ger there  indefinitely ;  but  her  mind,  her  thoughts,  kept  pace 
with  nature  as  unconsciously  as  the  flowers  that  bloomed  in 
their  season.  There  were  little  remembrances  from  all  the 
family,  but  Webb's  gift  promised  the  most  pleasure.  It  was  a 
powerful  opera-glass ;  and  as  he  handed  it  to  her  on  the  piazza 
in  the  early  morning  he  said  : 

"  Our  troupe  are  all  here  now,  Amy,  and  I  thought  that  you 
would  like  to  see  the  singers,  and  observe  their  costumes  and 
expressions.  Some  birds  have  a  good  deal  of  expression  and  a 
very  charming  manner  while  singing  —  a  manner  much  more  to 
my  taste  than  that  of  many  a.prima  donna  whom  I  have  heard, 
although  my  taste  may  be  uncultivated.  Focus  your  glass  on 
that  indigo-bird  in  yonder  tree-top.  Don't  you  see  him?  — 
the  one  that  is  favoring  us  with  such  a  lively  strain,  beginning 
with  a  repetition  of  short,  sprightly  notes.  The  glass  may 
enable  you  to  see  his  markings  accurately." 

"  Oh,  what  an  exquisite  glossy  blue  !  and  it  grows  so  deep 
and  rich  about  the  head,  throat,  and  breast !  How  plain  I  can 
see  him,  even  to  the  black  velvet  under  his  eyes  !  There  is 
brown  on  his  wings,  too.  Why,  I  can  look  right  into  his  little 
throat,  and  almost  imagine  I  see  the  notes  he  is  flinging  abroad 
so  vivaciously.  I  can  even  make  out  his  claws  closed  on  a  twig, 
and  the  dew  on  the  leaves  around  him  is  like  gems.  Truly, 
Webb,  you  were  inspired  when  you  thought  of  this  gift." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  quietly,  looking  much  pleased,  however, 
"with  a  very  honest  wish  to  add  to  your  enjoyment  of  the 
summer.  I  must  confess,  too,  that  I  had  one  thought  at  least 
for  myself.  You  have  described  the  indigo-bird  far  more  ac- 
curately than  I  could  have  done,  although  I  have  seen  it  every 
summer  as  long  as  I  can  remember.  You  have  taught  me  to 
see ;  why  should  I  not  help  you  to  see  more  when  I  can  do  it 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  241 

so  easily?  My  thought  was  that  you  would  lend  me  the  glass 
occasionally,  so  that  I  might  try  to  keep  pace  with  you.  I've 
been  using  the  microscope  too  much  —  prying  into  nature,  as 
Burt  would  say,  with  the  spirit  of  an  anatomist." 

"  I  shall  value  the  glass  a  great  deal  more  if  you  share  it  with 
me,"  she  said,  simply,  with  a  sincere,  direct  gaze  into  his  eyes  ; 
"and  be  assured,  Webb,"  she  added,  earnestly,  "you  are  help- 
ing me  more  than  I  can  help  you.  I'm  not  an  artist,  and  never 
can  be,  but  if  I  were  I  should  want  something  more  than  mere 
surface,  however  beautiful  it  might  be.  Think  of  it,  Webb,  I'm 
eighteen  to-day,  and  I  know  so  little  !  You  always  make  me 
feel  that  there  is  so  much  to  learn,  and,  what  is  more,  that  it  is 
worth  knowing.  You  should  have  been  a  teacher,  for  you  would 
make  the  children  feel,  when  learning  their  lessons,  as  Alf  does 
when  after  game.  How  well  nature  bears  close  scrutiny  !  "  she 
added,  sweeping  the  scene  with  her  glass.  "  I  can  go  every 
day  now  on  an  exploring  expedition.  But  there  is  the  break- 
fast-bell." 

Mr.  Clifford  came  in  a  little  late,  rubbing  his  hands  felici- 
tously, as  he  said  : 

"  I  have  just  come  from  the  apiary,  and  think  we  shall  have 
another  swarm  to-day.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  old  saying,  Amy, 


'  A  swarm  of  bees  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon  '  ? 


If  one  comes  out  to-day,  and  we  hive  it  safely,  we  shall  call  it 
yours,  and  you  shall  have  the  honey." 

"  How  much  you  are  all  doing  to  sweeten  my  life  !  "  she  said, 
laughing  ;  "  but  I  never  expected  the  present  of  a  swarm  of 
bees.  I  assure  you  it  is  a  gift  that  you  will  have  to  keep  for 
me,  and  yet  I  should  like  to  see  how  the  bees  swarm,  and  how 
you  hive  them.  Would  it  be  safe?  I've  heard  that  bees  are 
so  wise,  and  know  when  people  are  afraid  of  them." 

"  You  can  fix  yourself  up  with  a  thick  veil  and  a  pair  of 
gloves  so  that  there  will  be  no  danger,  and  your  swarm  of  bees, 


242  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

when  once  in  the  hive,  will  take  care  of  themselves,  and  help 
take  care  of  you.  That's  the  beauty  of  bee-culture." 

"  Our  bees  are  literally  in  clover  this  year,"  Leonard  re- 
marked. "  That  heavy  coating  of  wood-ashes  that  I  gave  to  a 
half-acre  near  the  apiary  proved  most  effective,  and  the  plot 
now  looks  as  if  a  flurry  of  snow  had  passed  over  it,  the  white 
clover  blossoms  are  so  thick.  That  is  something  I  could  never 
understand,  Webb.  Wood-ashes  will  always  bring  white  clover. 
It's  hard  to  believe  that  it  all  comes  from  seed  dormant  in  the 
ground." 

"Well,  it  does,"  was  the  reply. 

"  A  great  many  think  that  the  ashes  simply  produce  condi- 
tions in  the  soil  which  generate  the  clover." 

"  Out  of  nothing?  That  would  not  be  simple  at  all,  and  if 
any  one  could  prove  it  he  would  make  a  sensation  in  the  scien- 
tific world." 

"  Now,  Len,  here's  your  chance,"  laughed  Burt.  "  Just  ima- 
gine what  a  halo  of  glory  you  would  get  by  setting  the  scientific 
world  agape  with  wonder  !  " 

"  I  could  make  the  scientific  world  gape  in  a  much  easier 
way,"  Leonard  replied,  dryly.  "  Well,  Amy,  if  you  are  as  fond 
of  honey  as  I  am,  you  will  think  a  swarm  of  bees  a  very  nice 
present.  Fancy  buckwheat  cakes  eaten  with  honey  made  from 
buckwheat  blossoms !  There's  a  conjunction  that  gives  to 
winter  an  unflagging  charm.  If  the  old  Hebrews  felt  as  I  do,  a 
land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  must  have  been  very  allur- 
ing. Such  a  land  the  valley  of  the  Hudson  certainly  is.  It's 
one  of  the  finest  grass  regions  of  the  world,  and  grass  means 
milk ;  and  the  extensive  raspberry  fields  along  its  banks  mean 
honey.  White  clover  is  all  very  well,  but  I've  noticed  that 
when  the  raspberry-bushes  are  in  bloom  they  are  alive  with  bees. 
I  believe  even  the  locust-trees  would  be  deserted  for  these  in- 
significant little  blossoms  that,  like  many  plain  people,  are  well 
worth  close  acquaintance." 

"  The  linden-tree,  which  also  blooms  this  month,"   added 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  243 

Webb,  "  furnishes  the  richest  harvest  for  the  honey-bees,  and  I 
don't  believe  they  would  leave  its  blossoms  for  any  others. 
I  wish  there  were  more  lindens  in  this  region,  for  they  are  as 
ornamental  as  they  are  useful.  I've  read  that  they  are  largely 
cultivated  in  Russia  for  the  sake  of  the  bees.  The  honey  made 
from  the  linden  or  bass-wood  blossoms  is  said  to  be  crystal  in 
its  transparency,  and  unsurpassed  in  delicacy  of  flavor." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  I  shall  look  after  the  apiary  to- 
day. That's  good  lazy  work  for  an  old  man.  You  can  help  me 
watch  at  a  safe  distance,  Amy,  and  protected,  as  I  said,  if  they 
swarm.  It  wouldn't  be'  well  for  you  to  go  too  near  the  hives  at 
first,  you  know,"  he  added,  in  laughing  gallantry,  "  for  they 
might  mistake  you  for  a  flower.  They  are  so  well  acquainted 
with  me  that  I  raise  neither  expectations  nor  fears.  You  needn't 
come  out  before  ten  o'clock,  for  they  don't  swarm  until  to- 
wards midday." 

With  shy  steps,  and  well  protected,  Amy  approached  the 
apiary;  near  which  the  old  gentleman  was  sitting  in  placid  fear- 
lessness under  the  shade  of  a  maple,  the  honey  of  whose  spring 
blossoms  was  already  in  the  hive.  For  a  time  she  kept  at  a 
most  respectful  distance,  but,  as  the  bees  did  not  notice  her, 
she  at  last  drew  nearer,  and  removed  her  veil,  and  with  the  aid 
of  her  glass  saw  the  indefatigable  workers  coming  in  and  going 
out  with  such  celerity  that  they  seemed  to  be  assuring  each 
other  that  there  were  tons  of  honey  now  to  be  had  for  the  gath- 
ering. The  bees  grew  into  large  insects  under  her  powerful 
lenses,  and  their  forms  and  movements  were  very  distinct. 
Suddenly  from  the  entrance  of  one*  hive  near  Mr.  Clifford, 
which  she  happened  to  be  covering  with  her  glass,  she  saw  pour- 
ing out  a  perfect  torrent  of  bees.  She  started  back  in  affright, 
but  Mr.  Clifford  told  her  to  stand  still,  and  she  noted  that  he 
quietly  kept  his  seat,  while  following  through  his  gold-rimmed 
spectacles  the  swirling,  swaying  stream  that  rushed  into  the 
upper  air.  The  combined  hum  smote  the  ear  with  its  intensity. 
Each  bee  was  describing  circles  with  almost  the  swiftness  of 


244  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

light,  and  there  were  such  numbers  that  they  formed  a  nebu- 
lous living  mass.  Involuntarily  she  crouched  down  in  the  grass. 
In  a  few  moments,  however,  she  saw  the  swarm  draw  together 
and  cluster  like  a  great  black  ball  on  a  bough  of  a  small  pear- 
tree.  The  queen  had  alighted,  and  all  her  subjects  gathered 
around  her. 

"  Ah,"  chuckled  the  old  gentleman,  rising  quietly,  "  they 
couldn't  have  been  more  sensible  if  they  had  been  human  — 
not  half  so  sensible  in  that  case,  perhaps.  I  think  you  will 
have  your  swarm  now  without  doubt.  That's  the  beauty  of 
these  Italian  bees  when  they  are  kept  pure  :  they  are  so  quiet 
and  sensible.  Come  away  now,  until  I  return  prepared  to  hive 
them." 

The  young  girl  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  was  almost  trem- 
bling with  excitement,  to  which  fear  as  well  as  the  novelty  of 
the  scene  contributed  not  a  little.  Mr.  Clifford  soon  returned, 
well  protected  and  prepared  for  his  work.  Taking  an  empty 
hive,  he  placed  it  on  the  ground  in  a  secluded  spot,  and  laid 
before  its  entrances  a  broad,  smooth  board.  Then  he  mounted 
a  step-ladder,  holding  in  his  left  hand  a  large  tin  pan,  and 
gently  brushed  the  bees  into  it  as  if  they  had  been  inanimate 
things.  A  sheet  had  first  been  spread  beneath  the  pear-tree  to 
catch  those  that  did  not  fall  into  the  pan.  Touched  thus 
gently  and  carefully,  the  immense  vitality  of  the  swarm  remained 
dormant ;  but  a  rough,  sudden  movement  would  have  trans- 
formed it  instantly  into  a  vengeful  cloud  of  insects,  each  ani- 
mated by  the  one  impulse  to  use  its  stiletto.  Coming  down 
from  the  ladder,  he  turnetl  the  pan  towards  Amy,  and  with  her 
glass  she  saw  that  it  was  nearly  half  full  of  a  crawling,  seething 
mass  that  fairly  made  her  shudder.  But  much  experience  ren- 
dered the  old  gentleman  confident,  and  he  only  smiled  as  he 
carried  the  pan  of  bees  to  the  empty  hive,  and  poured  them 
out  on  the  board  before  it.  The  sheet  was  next  gathered  up 
and  placed  near  the  hive  also,  and  then  the  old  gentleman 
backed  slowly  and  quietly  away  until  he  had  joined  Amy,  to 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  24$ 

whom  he  said,  "  My  part  of  the  work  is  now  done,  and  I  think 
we  shall  soon  see  them  enter  the  hive."  He  was  right,  for 
within  twenty  minutes  every  bee  had  disappeared  within  the 
new  domicile.  "  To-night  I  will  place  the  hive  on  the  platform 
with  the  others,  and  to-morrow  your  bees  will  be  at  work  for 
you,  Amy.  I  don't  wonder  you  are  so  interested,  for  of  all  in- 
sects I  think  bees  take  the  palm.  It  is  possible  that  the  swarm 
will  not  fancy  their  new  quarters,  and  will  come  out  again,  but 
it  is  not  probable.  Screened  by  this  bush,  you  can  watch  in 
perfect  safety ; "  and  he  left  her  well  content,  with  her  glass 
fixed  on  the  apiary. 

Having  satisfied  herself  for  the  time  with  observing  the  work- 
ers coming  and  going,  she  went  around  to  the  white  clover-field 
to  see  the  process  of  gathering  the  honey.  She  had  long  since 
learned  that  bees  while  at  work  are  harmless,  unless  so  cornered 
that  they  sting  in  self-defence.  Sitting  on  a  rock  at  the  edge 
of  the  clover- field,  she  listened  to  the  drowsy  monotone  of  in- 
numerable wings.  Then  she  bent  her  glass  on  a  clover  head, 
and  it  grew  at  once  into  a  collection  of  little  white  tubes  or  jars 
in  which  from  earth,  air,  and  dew  nature  distilled  the  nectar 
that  the  bees  were  gathering.  The  intent  workers  stood  on 
their  heads  and  emptied  these  fragrant  honey-jars  with  marvel- 
lous quickness.  They  knew  when  they  were  loaded,  and  in 
straight  lines  as  geometrically  true  as  the  hexagon  cells  in  which 
the  honey  would  be  stored  they  darted  to  their  hives.  When 
the  day  grew  warm  she  returned  to  the  house  and  read,  with  a 
wonder  and  delight  which  no  fairy  tale  had  ever  produced, 
John  Burroughs's  paper,  "  The  Pastoral  Bees,"  which  Webb  had 
found  for  her  before  going  to  his  work.  To  her  childish  cre- 
dulity fairy  lore  had  been  more  interesting  than  wonderful,  but 
the  instincts  and  habits  of  these  children  of  nature  touched  on 
mysteries  that  can  never  be  solved. 

At  dinner  the  experiences  of  the  apiary  were  discussed,  and 
Leonard  asked,  "  Do  you  think  the  old-fashioned  custom  of 
beating  tin  pans  and  blowing  horns  influences  a  swarm  to 


246  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

alight?  The  custom  is  still  maintained  by  some  people  in  the 
vicinity." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Webb.  "  It  is  no  longer  practised  by  sci- 
entific bee-keepers,  and  yet  it  is  founded  on  the  principle  that 
anything  which  disconcerts  the  bees  may  change  their  plans. 
It  is  said  that  water  or  dry  earth  thrown  into  a  whirling  swarm 
will  sometimes  cause  it  to  alight  or  return  to  the  hive." 

"  Your  speaking  of  blowing  horns,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  laugh- 
ing, "recalls  a  hiving  experience  that  occurred  seventy  years 
ago.  I  was  a  boy  then,  but  was  so  punctured  with  stings  on  a 
June  day  like  this  that  a  vivid  impression  was  made  on  my 
memory.  We  were  expecting  swarms  every  day.  A  neighbor, 
a  quaint  old  man  who  lived  very  near,  had  gained  the  reputa- 
tion of  an  expert  at  this  business.  I  can  see  him  now,  with  his 
high  stove-pipe  hat,  and  his  gnarled,  wrinkled  visage,  which  he 
shrouded  in  a  green  veil  when  hiving  a  swarm.  He  was  a  good- 
hearted  old  fellow,  but  very  rough  in  his  talk.  He  had  been  to 
sea  in  early  life,  and  profanity  had  become  the  characteristic 
of  his  vernacular.  Well,  word  came  one  morning  that  the  bees 
were  swarming,  and  a  minute  later  I  aroused  the  old  man,  who 
was  smoking  and  dozing  on  his  porch.  I  don't  believe  you 
ever  ran  faster,  Alf,  than  I  did  then.  Hiving  bees  was  the  old 
fellow's  hobby  and  pride,  and  he  dived  into  his  cottage,  smash- 
ing his  clay  pipe  on  the  way,  with  the  haste  of  an  attacked  sol- 
dier seizing  his  weapons.  In  a  moment  he  was  out  with  all  his 
paraphernalia.  To  me  was  given  a  fish-horn  of  portentous 
size  and  sound.  The  'skips,'  which  were  the  old-fashioned 
straw  hives  that  the  bears  so  often  emptied  for  our  forefathers, 
stood  in  a  large  door-yard,  over  which  the  swarm  was  circling. 
As  we  arrived  on  the  scene  the  women  were  coming  from  the 
house  with  tin  pans,  and  nearly  all  the  family  were  out-of-doors. 
It  so  happened  that  an  old  white  horse  was  grazing  in  the  yard, 
and  at  this  critical  moment  was  near  the  end  of  the  bench  on 
which  stood  the  hives.  Coming  up  behind  him,  I  thoughtlessly 
let  off  a  terrific  blast  from  my  horn,  at  which  he,  terrified,  kicked 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  247 

viciously.  Over  went  a  straw  skip,  and  in  a  moment  we  had 
another  swarm  of  bees  on  hand  that  we  had  not  bargained  for. 
Dropping  my  horn,  I  covered  my  face  with  my  arm,  and  ran 
for  life  to  the  house,  but  I  must  have  been  stung  twenty  times 
before  I  escaped.  The  bees  seemed  everywhere,  and  as  mad 
as  hornets.  Although  half  wild  with  pain,  I  had  to  laugh  as  I 
saw  the  old  man  frantically  trying  to  adjust  his  veil,  meanwhile 
almost  dancing  in  his  anguish.  In  half  a  minute  he  succumbed, 
and  tore  into  a  wood-shed.  Everybody  went  to  cover  in- 
stantly except  the  white  horse,  and  he  had  nowhere  to  go,  but 
galloped  around  the  yard  as  if  possessed.  This  only  made  mat- 
ters worse,  for  innocent  as  he  was,  the  bees  justly  regarded 
him  as  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble.  At  last,  in  his  uncontrollable 
agony,  he  floundered  over  a  stone  wall,  and  disappeared.  For 
an  hour  or  two  it  was  almost  as  much  as  one's  life  was  worth  to 
venture  out.  The  old  man,  shrouded  and  mittened,  at  last 
crept  off  homeward  to  nurse  his  wounds  and  his  wrath,  and  he 
made  the  air  fairly  sulphurous  around  him  with  his  oaths. 
But  that  kind  of  sulphuric  treatment  did  not  affect  the  bees, 
for  I  observed  from  a  window  that  at  one  point  nearest  the 
skips  he  began  to  run,  and  he  kept  up  a  lively  pace  until  within 
his  door.  What  became  of  the  swarm  we  expected  to  hive  I 
do  not  know.  Probably  it  went  to  the  woods.  That  night  we 
destroyed  the  irate  swarm  whose  skip  had  been  kicked  over, 
and  peace  was  restored." 

"  If. you  had  told  that  story  at  the  breakfast-table,"  said  Amy, 
as  soon  as  the  laugh  caused  by  the  old  gentleman's  account  had 
subsided,  "  you  could  never  have  induced  me  to  be  present  this 
morning,  even  at  such  a  respectful  distance." 

"  An  old  man  who  lives  not  far  from  us  has  wonderful  suc- 
cess with  bees,"  Leonard  remarked.  "  He  has  over  fifty  hives 
in  a  space  not  more  than  twenty  feet  square,  and  I  do  not  think 
there  is  a  tenth  of  an  acre  in  his  whole  lot,  which  is  in  the  cen- 
tre of  a  village.  To  this  bare  little  plot  his  bees  bring  honey 
from  every  side,  so  that  for  his  purpose  he  practically  owns  this 


248  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

entire  region.  He  potters  around  them  so  much  that,  as  far  as 
he  is  concerned,  they  are  as  docile  as  barn-door  fowls,  and  he 
says  he  minds  a  sting  no  more  than  a  mosquito  bite.  There 
are  half  a  dozen  small  trees  and  bushes  in  his  little  yard,  and 
his  bees  are  so  accommodating  that  they  rarely  swarm  else- 
where than  on  these  low  trees  within  a  few  feet  of  the  skips. 
He  also  places  mullein  stalks  on  a  pole,  and  the  swarms  often 
cluster  on  them.  He  told  me  that  on  one  day  last  summer  he 
had  ten  swarms  to  look  after,  and  that  he  hived  them  all ;  and 
he  says  that  his  wife  is  as  good  at  the  work  as  he  is.  On  a 
pole  which  forms  the  corner  of  a  little  poultry-coop  he  keeps 
the  record  of  the  swarms  of  each  season,  and  for  last  summer 
there  are  sixty-one  notches.  A  year  ago  this  month  four 
swarms  went  into  a  barrel  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  his  yard, 
and  he  left  them  there.  By  fall  they  had  filled  the  barrel  with 
honey,  and  then,  in  his  vernacular,  he  '  tuck  it  up ; '  that  is,  he 
killed  the  bees,  and  removed  all  the  honey." 

"  That  is  the  regular  bee-phrase  in  this  region.  If  a  hive  is 
to  be  emptied  and  the  bees  destroyed,  or  a  bee  tree  to  be  cut 
down,  the  act  is  described  as  '  taking  up '  the  hive  or  tree," 
Burt  explained.  "  By  the  way,  Amy,"  he  added,  "  we  must 
give  you  a  little  bee-hunting  experience  in  the  mountains  next 
October.  It  would  make  a  jolly  excursion.  We  can  leave  you 
with  a  guard  at  some  high  point,  when  we  strike  a  bee-line,  and 
we  might  not  be  long  in  finding  the  tree." 

"  We'll  put  the  expedition  right  down  on  the  fall  pro- 
gramme," she  said,  smilingly.  Then  turning  to  Mr.  Clifford, 
she  continued  :  "  You  spoke  in  praise  of  Italian  bees.  What 
kind  are  they?  and  how  many  kinds  are  there?" 

"  Really  only  two  distinct  kinds  —  our  native  brownish-black 
bees,  and  the  Italians  imported  by  Mr.  S.  B.  Parsons  and  others 
about  fifteen  years  ago.  There  is  a  cross  or  hybrid  between 
these  two  kinds  that  are  said  to  be  so  ill-natured  that  it  is  un- 
safe to  go  anywhere  near  their  hives." 


JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES.  249 

"  Burt,"  said  Webb,  "  you  must  remember  reading  in  Virgil 
of  the  '  golden  bees.'  " 

"  Yes,  indistinctly ;  but  none  of  them  ever  got  in  my  bonnet 
or  made  much  impression.  I  don't  like  bees,  nor  do  they  like 
me.  They  respect  only  the  deliberation  of  profound  gravity 
and  wisdom.  Father  has  these  qualities  by  the  right  of  years, 
and  Webb  by  nature,  and  their  very  presence  soothes  the  iras- 
cible insects ;  but  when  I  go  among  them  they  fairly  bristle  with 
stings.  Give  me  a  horse,  and  the  more  spirited  the  better." 

"  Oh  no,  Burt ;  can't  give  you  any,"  said  Leonard,  with  his 
humorous  twinkle.  "  I'll  sell  you  one,  though,  cheap." 

"  Yes,  that  vicious,  uncouth  brute  that  you  bought  because  so 
cheap.  I  told  you  that  you  were  '  sold '  at  the  same  time  with 
the  horse." 

"  I  admit  it,"  was  the  rueful  reply.  "  If  he  ever  balks  again 
as  he  did  to-day,  I  shall  be  tempted  to  shoot  him." 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  said  Amy,  a  little  petulantly,  "  I'd  rather  hear 
about  Italian  bees  than  balky  horses.  Has  my  swarm  of  bees 
any  connection  with  those  that  Virgil  wrote  about,  Webb?" 

"  They  may  be  direct  descendants,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  call  them  May-bees,"  laughed  Burt. 

"  The  kind  of  bees  that  Virgil  wrote  about  were  undoubtedly 
their  ancestors,"  resumed  Webb,  smiling  at  Burl's  sally,  "  for 
bees  seem  to  change  but  little,  if  any,  in  their  traits  and  habits. 
Centuries  -of  domestication  do  not  make  them  domestic,  and 
your  swarm,  if  not  hived,  would  have  gone  to  the  mountains 
and  lived  in  a  hollow  tree.  I  have  a  book  that  will  give  you 
the  history  and  characteristics  of  the  Italians,  if  you  would  like 
to  read  about  them." 

"  I  certainly  should.  My  mind  is  on  bees  now,  and  I  intend 
to  follow  them  up  until  I  get  stung  probably.  Well,  I've  en- 
joyed more  honey  this  morning,  although  I've  not  tasted  any, 
than  in  all  my  life.  You  see  how  useful  I  make  the  opera-glass, 
Webb.  With  it  I  can  even  gather  honey  that  does  not  cloy." 


250  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

BURT   BECOMES   RATIONAL. 

BURT  had  expended  more  on  his  present  for  Amy  than  had 
any  of  the  family,  and,  while  it  had  been  acknowledged 
most  cordially,  he  was  a  little  disappointed  that  his  choice  had 
not  been  so  happy  as  Webb's.  Therefore  after  dinner  he  said  : 
"  I  feel  almost  envious.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure  also  to-day.  How  would  you  like  to  go  in  a  row-boat 
to  Constitution  Island,  and  make  that  visit  to  Miss  Warner  of 
which  we  spoke  last  winter?  It's  warm,  but  not  sultry,  and  we 
would  keep  in  the  shadow  pf  the  mountains  most  of  the  way 
down." 

She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Amy,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  she  assented,  cordially,  "  and  I  cannot 
think  of  anything  that  would  make  my  birthday  more  complete." 

"  I'll  be  ready  in  an  hour,"  he  said,  flushing  with  pleasure, 
and  he  went  up  to  his  room  two  steps  at  a  time. 

Burt's  mental  processes  during  the  past  few  weeks  had  been 
characteristic,  and  would  have  amused  Amy  had  she  been  fully 
aware  of  them.  As  Webb  surmised,  his  fever  had  to  run  its 
"course,  but  after  its  crisis  had  passed  he  rapidly  grew  rational. 
Moreover,  in  his  mother,  and  indeed  in  Amy  herself,  he  had  the 
best  of  physicians.  At  first  he  was  very  penitent,  and  not  a 
little  chagrined  at  his  course.  As  days  went  by,  however,  and 
it  was  not  referred  to  by  word  or  sign  on  the  part  of  the 
family,  his  nervous  apprehension  passed  away.  He  thought  he 
detected  a  peculiar  twinkle  in  Leonard's  eyes  occasionally,  but 


BURT  BECOMES  RATIONAL.  251 

it  might  have  resulted  from  other  causes.  Still  Amy  did  the 
most  to  re-assure  him  both  consciously  and  unconsciously.  As 
she  said,  she  took  him  at  his  word,  and  being  unembarrassed 
by  any  feeling  of  her  own,  found  it  easy  to  act  like  a  sister  to- 
wards him.  This  naturally  put  him  at  his  ease.  In  her  floral 
expeditions  with  Johnnie,  however,  and  her  bird-nestings  with 
Alf,  wherein  no  birds  were  robbed,  she  unconsciously  did  more 
to  reconcile  him  to  the  necessity  of  waiting  than  could  hours 
of  argument  from  even  his  mother.  She  thus  proved  to  him 
that  he  had  spoken  much  too  soon  —  that  she  was  not  ready 
for  his  ill-chosen,  passionate  words,  which  had  wounded  instead 
of  firing  her  heart  as  he  intended  they  should.  He  now  be- 
rated his  stupidity,  but  consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that 
love  is  always  a  little  blind.  He  saw  that  she  liked  Webb  ex- 
ceedingly, and  enjoyed  talking  with  him,  but  he  now  was  no 
longer  disposed  to  be  jealous.  She  ever  seemed  to  be  asking 
questions  like  an  intelligent  child.  "Why  shouldn't  she  like 
Webb  ?  "  he  thought.  "  He  is  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the 
world,  and  she  has  found  out  that  he's  a  walking  encyclopaedia 
of  out-door  lore." 

Burt  was  not  one  to  be  depressed  or  to  remain  in  the  valley 
of  humiliation  very  long.  After  a  week  or  two  a  slight  feeling 
of  superiority  began  to  assert  itself.  Amy  was  not  only  too 
young  to  understand  him,  but  also,  perhaps,  to  appreciate  him. 
He  believed  that  he  knew  more  than  one  pretty  girl  to  whom 
he  would  not  have  spoken  in  vain.  Some  day  the  scales  would 
fall  from  Amy's  eyes.  He  could  well  afford  to  wait  until  they 
did,  and  he  threw  back  his  handsome  head  at  the  thought,  and 
an  exultant  flash  came  into  his  blue  eyes.  Oh,  he  would  be 
faithful,  he  would  be  magnanimous,  and  he  also  admitted  to 
himself  that  he  would  be  very  glad  and  grateful ;  but  he  would 
be  very  patient,  perhaps  a  little  too  much  so  to  suit  her.  Since 
he  had  been  told  to  "  wait,"  he  would  wait  until  her  awakening 
heart  constrained  her  to  give  unequivocal  signs  of  readiness  to 
surrender. 


252  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Thus  his  thoughts  ran  on  while  he  was  busy  about  the  farm, 
or  galloping  over  the  country  on  business  or  pleasure.  After 
the  corn-planting  and  the  rush  of  work  in  May  was  over,  he 
had  given  himself  a  week's,  outing  among  the  trout  streams  of 
Ulster  County,  and  had  returned  with  his  equanimity  quite  re- 
stored. To  assure  Amy  of  this,  and  that  she  had  nothing  more 
to  fear,  but  everything  to  gain,  was  one  of  his  motives  in  ask- 
ing her  to  take  the  long  sail  that  afternoon.  He  succeeded  so 
well  that  a  smile  of  very  genuine  satisfaction  hovered  about  her 
lips  more  than  once.  She  enjoyed  the  expedition  exceedingly. 
She  was  grateful  for  the  kind  reception  given  her  by  the 
authors  who  had  done  much  to  sweeten  and  purify  the  world's 
thought.  She  was  charmed  with  the  superb  scenery  as  on  their 
return  they  glided  along  in  the  shadows  of  Cro1  Nest,  whose 
sides  seemed  lined  with  a  choir  of  wood  and  veery  thrushes 
and  other  wild  songsters.  At  last  they  evoked  the  spirit  of 
music  in  her.  She  took  an  oar  with  Burt,  and  they  pulled,  sang, 
and  laughed  together  like  careless,  happy  children.  Yet  more 
than  once  she  shyly  glanced  at  him,  and  queried,  Could  his 
flushed  and  mirthful  face  be  that  of  the  passionate  lover  and 
blighted  youth  of  scarce  a  month  since  ?  Burt  said  something 
droll,  and  her  laugh  raised  a  musical  echo  against  the  steep 
rocks  near.  His  wit  was  not  its  cause,  but  her  own  thought : 
"  My  plea  was  that  I  was  too  young ;  he's  very  young, 
too." 

As  they  neared  the  point  of  Storm  King  the  evening  boat, 
the  Mary  Poivell,  swept  towards  them  with  scarcely  more  ap- 
parent effort  than  that  of  a  swan.  A  few  moments  later  their 
skiff  was  dancing  over  the  swells,  Amy  waving  her  handkerchief, 
and  the  good-natured  pilot  awakening  a  hundred  echoes  by  his 
steam-whistle  of  responsive  courtesy. 

They  were  at  home  in  time  for  supper,  and  here  another 
delicious  surprise  awaited  Amy.  Johnnie  ^nd  Alf  felt  that 
they  should  do  something  in  honor  of  the  day.  From  a 
sunny  hillside  they  had  gleaned  a  gill  of  wild  strawberries,  and 


BURT  BECOMES  RA  TIONA L.  253 

Webb  had  found  that  the  heat  of  the  day  had  so  far  developed 
half  a  dozen  Jacqueminot  rosebuds  that  they  were  ready  for 
gathering.  These  with  their  fragrance  and  beauty  were  beside 
her  plate  in  dainty  arrangement.  They  seemed  to  give  the 
complete  and  final  touch  to  the  day  already  replete  with  joy 
and  kindness,  and  happy,  grateful  tears  rushed  into  the  young 
girl's  eyes.  Dashing  them  brusquely  away,  she  said  :  "  I  can't 
tell  you  all  what  I  feel,  and  I  won't  try.  I  want  you  to  know, 
however,"  she  added,  smilingly,  while  her  lips  quivered,  "  that 
I  am  very  much  at  home." 

Burt  was  in  exuberant  spirits,  for  Amy  had  told  him  that  she 
had  enjoyed  every  moment  of  the  afternoon.  This  had  been 
most  evident,  and  the  young  fellow  congratulated  himself.  He 
could  keep  his  word,  he  could  be  so  jolly  a  companion  as  to 
leave  nothing  to  be  desired,  and  waiting,  after  all,  would  not  be 
a  martyrdom.  His  mood  unloosed  his  tongue  and  made  him 
eloquent  as  he  described  his  experiences  in  trout-fishing.  His 
words  were  so  simple  and  vivid  that  he  made  his  listeners  hear 
the  cool  splash  and  see  the  foam  of  the  mountain  brooks.  They 
saw  the  shimmer  of  the  speckled  beauties  as  they  leaped  for 
the  fly,  and  felt  the  tingle  of  the  rod  as  the  line  suddenly  tight- 
ened, and  heard  the  hum  of  the  reel  as  the  fish  darted  away  in 
imagined  safety.  Burt  saw  his  vantage  —  was  not  Amy  listening 
with  intent  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks  ?  —  and  he  kept  the  little 
group  in  suspense  almost  as  long  as  it  had  taken  him  to  play, 
land,  and  kill  a  three-pound  trout,  the  chief  trophy  of  his  ex- 
cursion. 

Webb  was  unusually  silent,  and  was  conscious  of  a  depression 
for  which  he  could  not  account.  All  was  turning  out  better 
than  he  had  predicted.  The  relations  between  Burt  and  Amy 
were  not  only  "  serene,"  but  were  apparently  becoming  de- 
cidedly blissful.  The  young  girl  was  enthusiastic  over  her  en- 
joyment of  the  afternoon  ;  there  were  no  more  delicately  veiled 
defensive  tactics  against  Burt,  and  now  her  face  was  full  of  frank 
admiration  of  his  skill  as  an  angler  and  of  interest  in  the  wild 


254  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

scenes  described.  Burt  had  spent  more  time  in  society  than 
over  his  books  while  at  college,  and  was  a  fluent,  easy  talker. 
Webb  felt  that  he  suffered  in  contrast,  that  he  was  grave,  heavy, 
dull,  and  old  —  no  fit  companion  for  the  girl  whose  laughing 
eyes  so  often  rested  on  his  brother's  face  and  responded  to  his 
mirth.  Perhaps  Burt  would  not  have  long  to  wait ;  perhaps 
his  rash,  passionate  words  had  already  given  to  Amy's  girlish 
unconsciousness  the  shock  that  had  destroyed  it,  and  she  was 
learning  that  she  was  a  woman  who  could  return  love  for  love. 
Well,  granting  this,  was  it  not  just  what  they  were  all  expecting? 
"  But  the  change  is  coming  too  soon,"  he  complained  to  him- 
self. "  I  wish  she  could  keep  her  gentle,  lovable,  yet  unap- 
proachable May-day  grace  a  little  longer.  Then  she  was  like 
the  wind-flower,  which  the  eyes  can  linger  upon,  but  which  fades 
almost  the  moment  it  is  grasped.  It  made  her  so  different  from 
other  girls  of  her  age.  It  identified  her  with  the  elusive  spirit 
of  nature,  whose  beauty  entrances  one,  but  search  and  wander 
where  we  will,  nothing  can  be  found  that  is  distinctly  and  tangi- 
bly ours  or  any  one's.  Amy,  belonging  definitely  to  any  one, 
would  lose  half  her  charm." 

Webb  saw  and  heard  all  that  passed,  but  in  a  minor  key 
thoughts  like  these  were  forming  themselves,  with  little  volition 
on  his  part,  and  were  symptoms  which  as  yet  he  did  not  under- 
stand. In  an  interval  of  mirth,  Johnnie  heard  footsteps  on  the 
piazza,  and  darting  out,  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  Alvord's  re- 
treating form.  He  had  come  on  some  errand,  and,  seeing  the 
group  at  the  supper-table,  had  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  depart 
unrecognized.  This  the  little  girl  would  by  no  means  permit. 
Since  Easter  an  odd  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  her  and 
the  lonely  man,  and  she  had  become  almost  his  sole  visitor. 
She  now  called  after  him,  and  in  a  moment  was  at  his  side. 
"  Why  are  you  going  away?  "  she  said.  "  You  must  not  go  till 
I  show  you  my  garden." 

Maggie  joined  them,  for  he  deeply  enlisted  her  sympathy, 
and  she  wished  to  make  it  clear  by  her  manner  that  the  tie 


BURT  BECOMES  RATIONAL.  255 

between  him  and  the  child  had  her  approval.  "  Yes,  indeed, 
Mr.  Alvord,"  she  said,  "you  must  let  Johnnie  show  you  her 
garden,  and  especially  her  pansies." 

"  Heart's-ease  is  another  name  for  the  flower,  I  believe,"  he 
replied,  with  the  glimmer  of  a  smile.  "  In  that  case  Johnnie 
should  be  called  Pansy.  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Clifford,  that  you 
are  willing  to  trust  your  child  to  a  stranger.  We  had  a  lovely 
ramble  the  other  day,  and  she  said  that  you  told  her  she  might 
go  with  me." 

"  I'm  only  too  glad  that  you  find  Johnnie  an  agreeable  little 
neighbor,"  Maggie  began.  "  Indeed,  we  all  feel  so  neighborly 
that  we  hope  you  will  soon  cease  to  think  of  yourself  as  a 
stranger."  But  here  impatient  Johnnie  dragged  him  off  to  see 
her  garden,  and  his  close  and  appreciative  attention  to  all  she 
said  and  showed  to  him  won  the  child's  heart  anew.  Amy  soon 
joined  them,  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Alvord,  I  wish  your  congratulations,  also.  I'm  eighteen 
to-day." 

He  turned,  and  looked  at  her  so  wistfully  for  a  moment  that 
her  eyes  fell.  "  I  do  congratulate  you,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  deep 
voice.  "  If  I  had  my  choice  between  all  the  world  and  your 
age,  I'd  rather  be  eighteen  again.  May  your  brow  always  be 
as  serene  as  it  is  to-night,  Miss  Amy."  His  eyes  passed  swiftly 
from  the  elder  to  the  younger  girl,  the  one  almost  as  young  at 
heart  and  fully  as  innocent  as  the  other,  and  then  he  spoke 
abruptly :  "  Good-by,  Johnnie.  I  wish  to  see  your  father  a 
moment  on  some  business  ;  "  and  he  walked  rapidly  away.  By 
the  time  they  reached  the  house  he  had  gone.  Amy  felt  that 
with  the  night  a  darker  shadow  had  fallen  upon  her  happy  day. 
The  deep  sadness  of  a  wounded  spirit  touched  her  own,  she 
scarcely  knew  why.  It  was  but  the  law  of  her  unwarped,  un- 
selfish nature.  Even  as  a  happy  girl  she  could  not  pass  by 
uncaring,  on  the  other  side.  She  felt  that  she  would  like  to 
talk  with  Webb,  as  she  always  did  when  anything  troubled  her ; 
but  he,  touched  with  something  of  Burl's  old  restlessness,  had 


256  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

rambled  away  in  the  moonlight,  notwithstanding  the  fatigues  of 
the  day.  Therefore  she  went  to  the  piano  and  sang  for  the  old 
people  some  of  the  quaint  songs  of  which  she  knew  they  were 
fond.  Burt  sat  smoking  and  listening  on  the  piazza  in  im- 
measurable content. 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  257 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE. 

'TX)  Mrs.  Clifford  the  month  of  June  brought  the  halcyon 
JL  days  of  the  year.  The  warm  sunshine  revived  her,  the 
sub-acid  of  the  strawberry  seemed  to  furnish  the  very  tonic  she 
needed,  and  the  beauty  that  abounded  on  every  side,  and  that 
was  daily  brought  to  her  couch,  conferred  a  happiness  that  few 
could  understand.  Long  years  of  weakness,  in  which  only  her 
mind  could  be  active,  had  developed  in  the  invalid  a  refinement 
scarcely  possible  to  those  who  must  daily  meet  the  practical 
questions  of  life,  and  whose  more  robust  natures  could  enjoy  the 
material  side  of  existence.  It  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that 
country  life  had  matured  her  native  love  of  flowers  into  almost 
a  passion,  which  culminated  in  her  intense  enjoyment  of  the 
rose  in  all  its  varieties.  The  family,  aware  of  this  marked  pref- 
erence, rarely  left  her  without  these  flowers  at  any  season  ;  but 
in  June  her  eyes  feasted  on  their  varied  forms  and  colors,  and 
she  distinguished  between  her  favorites  with  all  the  zest  and  ac- 
curacy which  a  connoisseur  of  wines  ever  brought  to  bear  upon 
their  delicate  bouquet.  With  eyes  shut  she  could  name  from  its 
perfume  almost  any  rose  with  which  she  was  familiar.  There- 
fore, in  all  the  flower-beds  and  borders  roses  abounded,  espe- 
cially the  old-fashioned  kinds,  which  are  again  finding  a  place  in 
florists'  catalogues.  Originally  led  by  love  for  his  mother, 
Webb,  years  since,  had  begun  to  give  attention  to  the  queen  of 
flowers.  He  soon  found,  however,  that  the  words  of  an  English 
writer  a.re  true,  "  He  who.  would  have  beautiful  roses  in  his 


258  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

garden  must  have  them  first  in  his  heart,"  and  there,  with  queenly 
power,  they  soon  enthroned  themselves.  In  one  corner  of  the 
garden,  which  was  protected  on  the  north  and  west  by  a  high 
stone  wall,  where  the  soil  was  warm,  loamy,  and  well  drained, 
he  made  a  little  rose  garden.  He  bought  treatises  on  the 
flower,  and  when  he  heard  of  or  saw  a  variety  that  was  particu- 
larly fine'  he  added  it  to  his  collection.  "  Webb  is  marked  with 
my  love  of  roses,"  his  mother  often  said,  with  her  low,  pleased 
laugh.  Amy  had  observed  that  even  in  busiest  times  he  often 
visited  his  rose  garden  as  if  it  contained  pets  that  were  never 
forgotten.  He  once  laughingly  remarked  that  he  "  gave  recep- 
tions there  only  by  special  invitation,"  and  so  she  had  never 
seen  the  spot  except  from  a  distance. 

On  the  third  morning  after  her  birthday  Amy  came  down 
very  early.  The  bird  symphony  had  penetrated  her  open  win- 
dows with  such  a  jubilant  resonance  that  she  had  been  awakened 
almost  with  the  dawn.  The  air  was  so  cool  and  exhilarating, 
and  there  was  such  a  wealth  of  dewy  beauty  on  every  side, 
that  she  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  go  out  and  enjoy  the  most 
delightful  hour  of  the  day.  To  her  surprise,  she  saw  Webb 
going  down  the  path  leading  to  the  garden.  "  What's  on  your 
conscience,"  she  cried,  "  that  you  can't  sleep?" 

"  What's  on  yours?"  he  retorted. 

"  The  shame  of  leaving  so  many  mornings  like  this  unseen 
and  not  enjoyed.  I  mean  to  repent  and  mend  my  ways  •from 
this  time  forth  ;  that  is,  if  I  wake  up.  May  I  go  with  you?  " 

"  What  a  droll  question  !  "  he  replied,  in  laughing  invitation. 

"  Well,  I  did  not  know,"  she  said,  joining  him,  "  but  that 
you  were  going  to  visit  that  sanctum  sanctorum  of  yours." 

"  I  am.  Your  virtue  of  early  rising  is  about  to  be  rewarded. 
You  know  when  some  great  personage  is  to  be  specially  hon- 
ored, he  is  given  the  freedom  of  a  city  or  library,  etc.  I  shall 
now  give  you  the  freedom  of  my  rose  garden  for  the  rest  of 
the  summer,  and  from  this  time  till  frost  you  can  always  find 
roses  for  your  belt.  I  meant  to  do  this  on  your  birthday, 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  259 

but  the  buds  were  not  sufficiently  forward  this  backward 
season." 

"  I'm  not  a  great  personage." 

"  No,  thanks,  you're  not.     You  are  only  our  Amy." 

"  I'm  content.  Oh,  Webb,  what  miracles  have  you  been 
working  here?"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  passed  through  some 
screening  shrubbery,  and  looked  upon  a  plot  given  up  wholly 
to  roses,  many  of 'which  were  open,  more  in  the  phase  of  ex- 
quisite buds,  while  the  majority  were  still  closely  wrapped  in 
their  green  calyxes. 

"  No  miracle  at  all.  I've  only  assisted  nature  a  little.  At 
the  same  time,  let  me  assure  you  that  this  small  place  is  like  a 
picture-gallery,  and  that  there  is  a  chance  here  for  as  nice  dis- 
crimination as  there  would  be  in  a  cabinet  full  of  works  of  art. 
There  are  few  duplicate  roses  in  this  place,  and  I  have  been 
years  in  selecting  and  winnowing  this  collection.  They  are  all 
named  varieties,  labelled  in  my  mind.  I  love  them  too  well, 
and  am  too  familiar  with  them,  to  hang  disfiguring  bits  of  wood 
upon  them.  One  might  as  well  label  his  friends.  Each  one 
has  been  chosen  and  kept  because  of  some  individual  point  of 
excellence,  and  you  can  gradually  learn  to  recognize  these  char- 
acteristics just  as  mother  does.  This  plot  here  is  filled  with 
hardy  hybrid  perpetuals,  and  that  with  tender  tea-roses,  requir- 
ing very  different  treatment.  Here  is  a  moss  that  will  bloom 
again  in  the  autumn.  It  has  a  sounding  name  —  Soupert-et- 
notting — but  it  is  worthy  of  any  name.  Though  not  so  mossy 
as  some  others,  look  at  its  fine  form  and  beautiful  rose-color. 
Only  one  or  two  are  out  yet,  but  in  a  week  this  bush  will  be  a 
thing  of  beauty  that  one  would  certainly  wish  might  last  for- 
ever. Try  its  fragrance.  Nothing  surpasses  it  unless  it  is  La 
France,  over  there." 

She  inhaled  the  exquisite  perfume  in  long  breaths,  and  then 
looked  around  at  the  budding  beauty  on  ever)'  side,  even  to  the 
stone  walls  that  were  covered  with  climbing  varieties.  At  last 
she  turned  to  him  with  eyes  that  were  dilated  as  much  with 


260  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

wonder  as  with  pleasure,  and  said  :  "  Well,  this  is  a  surprise. 
How  in  the  world  have  you  found  time  to  bring  all  this  about? 
I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  it  even  in  England.  Of  course 
I  saw  rose  gardens  there  on  a  larger  scale  in  the  parks  and 
greenhouses,  but  I  have  reference  to  the  bushes  and  flowers. 
To  me  it  is  just  a  miracle." 

"  You  are  wholly  mistaken.  Why,  Amy,  an  old  gentleman 
who  lives  but  a  few  miles  away  has  had  seventy  distinct  kinds 
of  hybrid  perpetuals  in  bloom  at  one  time,  and  many  of  them 
the  finest  in  existence ;  and  yet  he  has  but  a  little  mite  of  a 
garden,  and  has  been  a  poor,  hard-working  man  all  his  life. 
Speaking  of  England,  when  I  read  of  what  the  poor  working 
people  of  Nottingham  accomplished  in  their  little  bits  of  glass- 
houses and  their  Liliputian  gardens,  I  know  that  all  this  is  very 
ordinary,  and  within  the  reach  of  almost  any  one  who  loves 
the  flower.  After  one  learns  how  to  grow  roses,  they  do  not 
cost  much  more  care  and  trouble  than  a  crop  of  onions  or 
cabbages.  The  soil  and  location  here  just  suit  the  rose.  You 
see  that  the  place  is  sheltered,  and  yet  there  are  no  trees  near 
to  shade  them  and  drain  the  ground  of  its  richness." 

"  Oh,  you  are  sure  to  make  it  all  seem  simple  and  natural. 
It's  a  way  you  have,"  she  said.  "  But  to  me  it's  a  miracle.  I 
don't  believe  there  are  many  who  have  your  feeling  for  this 
flower  or  your  skill." 

"  You  are  mistaken  again.  The  love  for  roses  is  very  com- 
mon, as  it  should  be,  for  millions  of  plants  are  sold  annually, 
and  the  trade  in  them  is  steadily  increasing.  Come,  let  me 
give  you  a  lesson  in  the  distinguishing  marks  of  the  different 
kinds.  A  rose  will  smell  as  sweet  by  its  own  name  as  by 
another,  and  you  will  find  no  scentless  flowers  here.  There 
are  some  fine  odorless  ones,  like  the  Beauty  of  Stapleford,  but 
I  give  them  no  place." 

The  moments  flew  by  unheeded  until  an  hour  had  passed, 
and  then  Webb,  looking  at  the  sun,  exclaimed :  "  I  must  go. 
This  will  answer  for  the  first  lesson.  You  can  bring  mother 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  261 

here  now  in  her  garden  chair  whenever  she  wishes  to  come, 
and  I  will  give  you  other  lessons,  until  you  are  a  true  connois- 
seur in  roses ;  "  and  he  looked  at  those  in  her  cheeks  as  if  they 
were  more  lovely  than  any  to  which  he  had  been  devoted  for 
years. 

"  Well,  Webb,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  I  cannot  think  of  any- 
thing lacking  in  my  morning's  experience.  I  was  wakened  by 
the  song  of  birds.  You  have  revealed  to  me  the  mystery  of 
your  sanctum,  and  that  alone,  you  know,  would  be  happiness 
to  the  feminine  soul.  You  have  also  introduced  me  to  dozens 
of  your  sweethearts,  for  you  look  at  each  rose  as  Burt  does  at 
the  pretty  girls  he  meets.  You  have  shown  me  your  budding 
rose  garden  in  the  dewy  morning,  and  that  was  appropriate, 
too.  Every  one  of  your  pets  was  gemmed  and  jewelled  for  the 
occasion,  and  unrivalled  musicians,  cleverly  concealed  in  the 
trees  near,  have  filled  every  moment  with  melody.  What  more 
could  I  ask?  But  where  are  you  going  with  that  basket?  " 

"  To  gather  strawberries  for  Breakfast.  There  are  enough 
ripe  this  morning.  You  gather  roses  in  the  other  basket.  Why 
should  we  not  have  them  for  breakfast,  also?" 

"  Why  not,  indeed,  since  it  would  seem  that  there  are  to  be 
thousands  here  and  elsewhere  in  the  garden  ?  Fresh  roses  and 
strawberries  for  breakfast  —  that's  country  life  to  perfection. 
Good-by." 

He  went  away  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  his  heart  almost  ached 
with  a  tension  of  feeling  that  he  could  not  define.  It  seemed 
to  him  the  culmination  of  all  that  he  had  loved  and  enjoyed. 
His  rose  garden  had  been  complete  at  this  season  the  year 
before,  but  now  that  Amy  had  entered  it,  the  roses  that  she 
had  touched,  admired,  and  kissed  with  lips  that  vied  with  their 
petals  grew  tenfold  more  beautiful,  and  the  spot  seemed  sacred 
to  her  alone.  He  could  never  enter  it  again  without  thinking 
of  her  and  seeing  her  lithe  form  bending  to  favorites  which 
hitherto  he  had  only  associated  with  his  mother.  His  life 
seemed  so  full  and  his  happiness  so  deep  that  he  did  not 


262  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

want  to  think,  and  would  not  analyze  according  to  his 
habit. 

He  brought  the  strawberries  to  Amy  in  the  breakfast-room, 
and  stood  near  while  she  and  Johnnie  hulled  them.  He  saw 
the  roses  arranged  by  his  mother's  plate  in  such  nice  harmony 
that  one  color  did  not  destroy  another.  He  replied  to  her 
mirthful  words  and  rallyings,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  said,  so 
deep  was  the  feeling  that  oppressed  him,  so  strong  was  his  love 
for  that  sweet  sister  who  had  come  into  his  life  and  made  it 
ideally  perfect.  She  appreciated  what  he  had  loved  so  fully, 
her  very  presence  had  ever  kindled  his  spirit,  and  while  eager 
to  learn  and  easily  taught,  how  truly  she  was  teaching  him  a 
philosophy  of  life  that  seemed  divine  !  What  more  could  he 
desire  ?  The  day  passed  in  a  confused  maze  of  thought  and 
happiness,  so  strange  and  absorbing  that  he  dared  not  speak 
lest  he  should  waken  as  from  a  dream.  The  girl  had  grown  so 
beautiful  to  him  that  he  scarcely  wished  to  look  at  her,  and 
hastened  through  his  meals  Jhat  he  might  be  alone  with  his 
thoughts.  The  sun  had  sunk,  and  the  moon  was  well  over  the 
eastern  mountains,  before  he  visited  the  rose  garden.  Amy 
was  there,  and  she  greeted  him  with  a  pretty  petulance  because 
he  had  not  come  before.  Then,  in  sudden  compunction,  she 
asked  : 

"  Don't  you  feel  well,  Webb  ?  You  have  been  so  quiet  since 
we  were  here  this  morning  !  Perhaps  you  are  sorry  you  let  me 
into  this  charmed  seclusion." 

"  No,  Amy,  I  am  not,"  he  said,  with  an  impetuosity  very 
unusual  in  him.  "  You  should  know  me  better  than  even  to 
imagine  such  a  thing." 

Before  he  could  say  anything  more,  Burt's  mellow  voice  rang 
out,  "Amy  ! " 

"Oh,  I  half  forgot ;  I  promised  to  take  a  drive  with  Burt 
this  evening.  Forgive  me,  Webb,"  she  added,  gently  ;  "  I  only 
spoke  in  sport.  I  do  know  you  too  well  to  imagine  I  am  un- 
welcome here.  No  one  ever  had  a  kinder  or  more  patient 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  263 

brother  than  you  have  been  to  me ; "  and  she  clasped  her 
hands  upon  his  arm,  and  looked  up  into  his  face  with  frank 
affection. 

His  arm  trembled  under  her  touch,  and  he  felt  that  he  must 
be  alone.  In  his  usual  quiet  tones,  however,  he  was  able  to 
say :  "  You,  rather,  must  forgive  me  that  I  spoke  so  hastily. 
No  ;  I'm  not  ill,  but  very  tired.  A  good  night's  rest  will  bring 
me  around.  Go  and  enjoy  your  drive  to  the  utmost." 

"  Webb,  you  work  too  hard,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "  But  Burt 
is  calling  —  " 

"  Yes ;  do  not  keep  him  waiting ;  and  think  of  me,"  he 
added,  laughing,  "as  too  weary  for  moonlight,  roses,  or  any- 
thing but  prosaic  sleep.  June  is  all  very  well,  but  it  brings  a 
pile  of  work  to  a  fellow  like  me." 

"  Oh,  Webb,  what  a  clodhopper  you're  trying  to  make  your- 
self out  to  be  !  Well,  '  Sleep,  sleep  '  —  I  can't  think  of  the  rest 
of  the  quotation.  Good-by.  Yes,  I'm  coming !  "  rang  out 
her  clear  voice ;  and,  with  a  smiling  glance  backward,  she 
hastened  away. 

From  the  shrubbery  he  watched  her  pass  up  the  wide  garden 
path,  the  moonlight  giving  an  ethereal  beauty  to  her  slight  form 
with  its  white,  close  drapery.  Then,  deeply  troubled,  he  threw 
himself  on  a  rustic  seat  near  the  wall,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  It  was  all  growing  too  clear  to  him  now,  and  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  conviction  that  Amy  was 
no  longer  his  sister,  but  the  woman  he  loved.  The  deep- 
hidden  current  of  feeling  that  had  been  gathering  volume  for 
months  at  last  flashed  out  into  the  light,  and  there  could  be  no 
more  disguise.  The  explanation  of  her  power  over  him  was 
now  given  to  his  deepest  consciousness.  By  some  law  of  his 
nature,  when  she  spoke  he  had  ever  listened ;  whatever  she 
said  and  did  had  been  invested  with  a  nameless  charm.  Day 
after  day  they  had  been  together,  and  their  lives  had  harmonized 
like  two  chords  that  blend  in  one  sweet  sound.  He  had  never 
had  a  sister,  and  his  growing  interest  in  Amy  had  seemed  the 


264  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

most  natural  thing  in  the  world  ;  that  Burt  should  love  her, 
equally  natural  —  to  fall  in  love  was  almost  a  habit  with  the 
mercurial  young  fellow  when  thrown  into  the  society  of  a  pretty 
girl  — and  he  had  felt  that  he  should  be  only  too  glad  that  his 
brother  had  at  last  fixed  his  thoughts  on  one  who  would  not 
be  a  stranger  to  them.  He  now  remembered  that,  while  all 
this  had  been  satisfactory  to  reason,  his  heart  for  a  long  time 
had  been  uttering  its  low,  half-conscious  protest.  Now  he 
knew  why.  The  events  of  this  long  day  had  revealed  him 
unto  himself,  because  he  was  ripe  for  the  knowledge. 

His  nature  had  its  hard,  practical  business  side,  but  he  had 
never  been  content  with  questions  of  mere  profit  and  loss.  He 
not  only  had  wanted  the  corn,  but  the  secret  of  the  corrk's 
growth  and  existence.  To  search  into  Nature's  hidden  life,  so 
that  he  could  see  through  her  outward  forms  the  mechanism 
back  of  all,  and  trace  endless  diversity  to  simple  inexorable 
laws,  had  been  his  pride  and  the  promised  solace  of  his  life. 
His  love  of  the  rose  had  been  to  him  what  it  is  to  many  another 
hard-working  man  and  woman  —  recreation,  a  habit,  something 
for  which  he  had  developed  the  taste  and  feeling  of  a  connois- 
seur. It  had  had  no  appreciable  influence  on  the  current  of 
his  thoughts.  Amy's  coming,  however,  had  awakened  the  poetic 
side  of  his  temperament,  and,  while  this  had  taken  nothing  from 
the  old,  it  had  changed  everything.  Before,  his  life  had  been 
like  nature  in  winter,  when  all  things  are  in  hard,  definite  out- 
line. The  feeling  which  she  had  inspired  brought  the  trans- 
forming flowers  and  foliage.  It  was  an  immense  addition  to 
that  which  already  existed,  and  which  formed  the  foundation 
for  it.  For  a  long  time  he  had  exulted  in  this  inflorescence  of 
his  life,  as  it  were,  and  was  more  than  content.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  spirit  gifted  even  unconsciously  with  the  power 
thus  to  develop  his  own  nature  must  soon  become  to  him  more 
than  a  cause  of  an  effect,  more  than  a  sister  upon  whom  he 
could  look  with  as  tranquil  eyes  and  even  pulse  in  youth  as  in 
frosty  age.  But  now  he  knew  it  with  the  absolute  certainty  that 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  26$ 

was  characteristic  of  his  mind  when  once  it  grasped  a  truth. 
The  voice  of  Burt  calling  "  Amy,"  after  the  experiences  of  the 
clay,  had  been  like  a  shaft  of  light,  instantly  revealing  everything. 
For  her  sake  more  than  his  own  he  had  exerted  himself  to  the 
utmost  to  conceal  the  truth  of  that  moment  of  bitter  conscious- 
ness. He  trembled  as  he  thought  of  his  blind,  impetuous  words 
and  her  look  of  surprise ;  he  grew  cold  with  dread  as  he  re- 
membered how  easily  he  might  have  betrayed  himself. 

And  now  what  should  he  do  ?  what  could  he  do  but  hide 
the  truth  with  sleepless  vigilance  ?  He  could  not  become  his 
brother's  rival.  In  the  eyes  of  Amy  and  all  the  family  Burt  was 
her  acknowledged  suitor,  who,  having  been  brought  to  reason, 
was  acting  most  rationally  and  honorably.  Whether  Amy  was 
learning  to  love  him  or  not  made  no  difference.  If  she,  grow- 
ing conscious  of  her  womanhood,  was  turning  her  thoughts  to 
Burt  as  the  one  who  had  first  sought  her,  and  who  was  now 
cheerfully  waiting  until  the  look  of  shy  choice  and  appeal  came 
into  her  eyes,  he  could  not  seek  to  thrust  his  younger  brother 
aside.  If  the  illustration  of  the  rose  which  she  had  forced  in- 
to unnatural  bloom  was  still  true  of  her  heart,  he  would  be  false 
to  her  and  himself,  as  well  as  to  Burt,  should  he  seek  her  in  the 
guise  of  a  lover.  He  had  felt  that  it  was  almost  sacrilege  to 
disturb  her  May-like  girlhood  ;  that  this  child  of  nature  should 
be  left  wholly  to  nature's  impulses  and  to  nature's  hour  for 
awakening. 

"  If  it  only  could  have  been,  how  rich  and  full  life  would  be  !  " 
he  thought.  "  We  were  in  sympathy  at'almost  every  point. 
When  shall  I  forget  the  hour  we  spent  here  this  morning  !  The 
exquisite  purity  and  beauty  of  the  dawn,  the  roses  with  the  dew 
upon  them,  seemed  emblems  of  herself.  Hereafter  they  will 
ever  speak  to  me  of  her.  That  perfume  that  comes  on  the 
breeze  to  me  now  from  the  wild  grapevine  —  the  most  delicate 
and  delightful  of  all  the  odors  of  June  —  is  instantly  associated 
with  her  in  my  mind,  as  all  things  lovely  in  nature  ever  will  be 
hereafter.  How  can  I  hide  all  this  from  her,  and  seem  merely 


266  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

her  quiet  elderly  brother  ?  How  can  I  meet  her  here  to-morrow 
morning,  and  in  the  witchery  of  summer  evenings,  and  still 
speak  in  measured  tones,  and  look  at  her  as  I  would  at  John- 
nie ?  The  thing  is  impossible  until  I  have  gained  a  stronger 
self-control.  I  must  go  away  for  a  day  or  two,  and  I  will. 
When  I  return  neither  Burt  nor  Amy  shall  have  cause  to  com- 
plain ;  "  and  he  strode  away. 

The  evening  mail  brought  an  excuse.  A  firm  to  whom  the 
Cliffords  had  been  sending  part  of  their  produce  had  not  given 
full  satisfaction,  and  Webb  announced  his  intention  of  going  to 
the  city  in  the  morning  to  investigate  matters.  His  father  and 
Leonard  approved  of  his  purpose,  and  when  he  added  that  he 
might  stay  in  town  for  two  or  three  days,  that  he  felt  the  need 
of  a  little  change  and  rest  before  haying  and  harvest  began,  they 
all  expressed  their  approval  still  more  heartily. 

The  night  was  so  beautiful  that  Burt  prolonged  his  drive. 
The  witchery  of  the  romantic  scenery  through  which  he  and 
Amy  passed,  and  the  loveliness  of  her  profile  in  the  pale  light, 
almost  broke  down  his  resolution,  and  once,  in  accents  much 
too  tender,  he  said,  "  Oh,  Amy,  I  am  so  happy  when  with  you  !  " 

"  I'm  happy  with  you  also,"  she  replied,  in  brusque  tones, 
"  now  that  you  have  become  so  sensible." 

He  took  the  hint,  and  said,  emphatically :  "  Don't  you  ever 
be  apprehensive  or  nervous  when  with  me.  I'll  wait,  and  be 
'  sensible,'  as  you  express  it,  till  I'm  gray." 

Her  laugh  rang  out  merrily,  but  she  made  no  other  reply. 
He  was  a  little  nettled,  and  mentally  vowed  a  constancy  that 
would  one  day  make  her  regret  that  laugh. 

Webb  had  retired  when  Amy  returned,  and  she  learned  of 
his  plans  from  Maggie.  "  It's  just  the  best  thing  he  can  do," 
she  said,  earnestly.  "  Webb's  been  overworking,  and  he  needs 
and  deserves  a  little  rest."  » 

In  the  morning  he  seemed  so  busy  with  his  preparations  that 
he  had  scarcely  time  to  give  her  more  than  a  genial  off-hand 
greeting. 


WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE.  267 

"  Oh,  Webb,  I  shall  miss  you  so  much  !  "  she  said,  in  parting, 
and  her  look  was  very  kind  and  wistful.  He  did  not  trust  him- 
self to  speak,  but  gave  her  a  humorous  and  what  seemed  to  her 
a  half-incredulous  smile.  He  puzzled  her,  and  she  thought 
about  him  and  his  manner  of  the  previous  day  and  evening  not 
a  little.  With  her  sensitive  nature,  she  could  not  approach  so 
near  the  mystery  that  he  was  striving  to  conceal  without  being 
vaguely  impressed  that  there  was  something  unusual  about  him. 
The  following  day,  however,  brought  a  cheerful,  business-like 
letter  to  his  father,  which  was  read  at  the  dinner-table.  He  had 
straightened  out  matters  in  town  and  seemed  to  be  enjoying 
himself.  She  more  than  once  admitted  that  she  did  miss  him 
as  she  would  not  any  other  member  of  the  household.  But  her 
out-door  life  was  very  full.  By  the  aid  of  her  glass  she  made 
the  intimate  acquaintance  of  her  favorite  songsters.  Every  day 
she  took  Mrs.  Clifford  in  her  garden  chair  to  the  rosary,  and 
proposed  through  her  instruction  to  give  Webb  a  surprise  when 
he  returned.  She  would  prove  to  him  that  she  could  name  his 
pets  from  their  fragrance,  form,  and  color  as  well  as  he  himself. 


268   '  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A   SHAM    BATTLE   AT   WEST   POINT. 

BURT  did  his  best  to  keep  things  lively,  and  a  few  days  after 
Webb's  departure  said  :  "  I've  heard  that  there  is  to  be  a 
sham  battle  at  West  Point  this  afternoon.  Suppose  we  go  and 
see  it." 

The  heavy  guns  from  the  river  batteries  had  been  awakening 
deep  echoes  among  the  mountains  every  afternoon  for  some 
time  past,  reminding  the  Cliffords  that  the  June  examinations 
were  taking  place  at  the  Military  Academy,  and  that  there  \yas 
much  of  interest  occurring  near  them.  Not  only  did  Amy  as- 
sent to  Burt's  proposition,  but  Leonard  also  resolved  to  go  and 
take  Maggie  and  the  children.  In  the  afternoon  a  steam-yacht 
bore  them  and  many  other  excursionists  to  their  destination, 
and  they  were  soon  skirting  the  grassy  plain  on  which  the  mil- 
itary evolutions  were  to  take  place. 

The  scene  was  full  of  novelty  and  interest  for  Amy.  Thou- 
sands of  people  were  there,  representing  every  walk  and  con- 
dition of  life.  Plain  farmers  with  their  wives  and  children, 
awkward  country  fellows  with  their  sweethearts,  dapper  clerks 
with  bleached  hands  and  faces,  were  passing  to  and  fro  among 
ladies  in  Parisian  toilets  and  with  the  unmistakable  air  of  the 
metropolis.  There  were  officers  with  stars  upon  their  shoulders, 
and  others,  quite  as  important  in  their  bearing,  decorated  with 
the  insignia  of  a  second  lieutenant.  Plain-looking  men  were 
pointed  out  as  senators,  and  elegantly  dressed  men  were,  at 
a  glance,  seen  to  be  nobodies.  _  Scarcely  a  type  was  wanting 


A   SHAM  BATTLE  AT  WEST  POINT.          269 

among  those  who  came  to  see  how  the  nation's  wards  were 
drilled  and  prepared  to  defend  the  nation's  honor  and  maintain 
peace  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  On  the  piazzas  of  the  offi- 
cers' quarters  were  groups  of  favored  people  whose  relations  or 
distinguished  claims  were  such  as  to  give  them  this  advantage 
over  those  who  must  stand  where  they  could  to  see  the  pageant. 
The  cadets  in  their  gray  uniforms  were  conspicuously  absent, 
but  the  band  was  upon  the  plain  discoursing  lively  music.  From 
the  enclosure  within  the  barracks  came  the  long  roll  of  a  drum, 
and  all  eyes  turned  thitherward  expectantly.  Soon  from  under 
the  arched  sally-port  two  companies  of  cadets  were  seen  issu- 
ing on  the  double-quick.  They  crossed  the  plain  with  the  per- 
fect time  and  precision  of  a  single  mechanism,  and  passed  down 
into  a  depression  of  the  ground  towards  the  river.  After  an 
interval  the  other  two  companies  came  out  in  like  manner,  and 
halted  on  the  plain  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  this  depres- 
sion, their  bayonets  scintillating  in  the  unclouded  afternoon  sun. 
Both  parties  were  accompanied  by  mounted  cadet  officers.  The 
body  on  the  plain  threw  but  pickets,  stacked  arms,  and  lounged 
at  their  ease.  Suddenly  a  shot  was  fired  to  the  eastward,  then 
another,  and  in  that  direction  the  pickets  were  seen  running  in. 
With  marvellous  celerity  the  loungers  on  the  plain  seized  their 
muskets,  formed  ranks,  and  faced  towards  the  point  from  which 
the  attack  was  threatened.  A  skirmish  line  was  thrown  out,  and 
this  soon  met  a  similar  line  advancing  from  the  depression,  slop- 
ing eastward.  Behind  the  skirmishers  came  a  compact  line  of 
battle,  and  it  advanced  steadily  until  within  fair  musket  range, 
when  the  firing  became  general.  While  the  attacking  party  ap- 
peared to  fight  resolutely,  it  was  soon  observed  that  they  made 
no  further  effort  to  advance,  but  sought  only  to  occupy  the 
attention  of  the  party  to  which  they  were  opposed. 

The  Cliffords  stood  on  the  northwestern  edge  of  the  plain 
near  the  statue  of  General  Sedgwick,  and  from  this  point  they 
could  also  see  what  was  occurring  in  the  depression  towards 
the  river.  "  Turn,  Amy,  quick,  and  see  what's  coming,"  cried 


2/0  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Burt.  Stealing  up  the  hillside  in  solid  column  was  another 
body  of  cadets.  A  moment  later  they  passed  near  on  the 
double-quick,  went  into  battle  formation  on  the  run,  and  with 
loud  shouts  charged  the  flank  and  rear  of  the  cadets  on  the 
plain,  who  from  the  first  had  sustained  the  attack.  These 
seemed  thrown  into  confusion,  for  they  were  now  between  two 
fires.  After  a  moment  of  apparent  indecision  they  gave  way 
rapidly  in  seeming  defeat  and  rout,  and  the  two  attacking 
parties  drew  together  in  pursuit.  When  they  had  united,  the 
pursued,  who  a  moment  before  had  seemed  a  crowd  of  fugi- 
tives, became  almost  instantly  a  steady  line  of  battle.  The 
order,  "  Charge  ! "  rang  out,  and,  with  fixed  bayonets,  they 
rushed  upon  their  assailants,  and  steadily  drove  them  back  over 
the  plain,  and  down  into  their  original  position.  It  was  all 
carried  out  with  a  fair  degree  of  life-like  reality.  The  "  sing  " 
of  minie  bullets  was  wanting,  but  abundance  of  noise  and  sul- 
phurous smoke  can  be  made  with  blank  cartridges ;  and  as  the 
party  attacked  plucked  victory  from  seeming  defeat,  the  peo- 
ple's acclamations  were  loud  and  long. 

At  this  point  the  horse  of  one  of  the  cadet  officers  became 
unmanageable.  They  had  all  observed  this  rider  during  the 
battle,  admiring  the  manner  in  which  he  restrained  the  vicious 
brute,  but  at  last  the  animal's  excitement  or  fear  became  so 
great  that  he  rushed  towards  the  crowded  sidewalk  and  road  in 
front  of  the  officers'  quarters.  The  people  gave  way  to  right 
and  left.  Burt  had  scarcely  time  to  do  more  than  encircle  Amy 
with  his  arm  and  sweep  her  out  of  the  path  of  the  terrified 
beast.  The  cadet  made  heroic  efforts,  until  it  was  evident  that 
the  horse  would  dash  into  the  iron  fence  beyond  the  road,  and 
then  the  young  fellow  was  off  and  on  his  feet  with  the  agility  of 
a  cat,  but  he  still  maintained  his  hold  upon  the  bridle.  A  sec- 
ond later  there  was  a  heavy  thud  heard  above  the  screams  of 
women  and  children  and  the  shouts  of  those  vociferating  ad- 
vice. The  horse  fell  heavily  in  his  recoil  from  the  fence,  and 
in  a  moment  or  two  was  led  limping  and  crestfallen  away,  while 


A   SHAM  BATTLE  AT  WEST  POINT.          271 

the  cadet  quietly  returned  to  his  comrades  on  the  plain.  John- 
nie and  little  Ned  were  crying  from  fright,  and  both  Amy  and 
Maggie  were  pale  and  nervous ;  therefore  Leonard  led  the  way 
out  of  the  crowd.  From  a  more  distant  point  they  saw  the 
party  beneath  the  hill  rally  for  a  final  and  united  charge,  which 
this  time  proved  successful,  and  the  companies  on  the  plain, 
after  a  stubborn  resistance,  were  driven  back  to  the  barracks, 
and  through  the  sally-port,  followed  by  their  opponents.  The 
clouds  of  smoke  rolled  away,  the  band  struck  up  a  lively  air, 
and  the  lines  of  people  broke  up  into  groups  and  streamed  in 
all  directions.  Leonard  decided  that  it  would  be  best  for  them 
to  return  by  the  evening  boat,  and  not  wait  for  parade,  since 
the  little  yacht  would  certainly  be  overcrowded  at  a  later  hour. 


2/2  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CHASED   BY   A  THUNDER-SHOWER. 

r  I  ^HE  first  one  on  the  Powell  to  greet  them  was  Webb,  re- 
\_  turning  from  the  city.  Amy  thought  he  looked  so  thin 
as  to  appear  almost  haggard,  but  he  seemed  in  the  best  of 
spirits,  and  professed  to  feel  well  and  rested.  She  half  ima- 
gined that  she  missed  a  certain  gentleness  in  his  words  and  man- 
ner towards  her,  but  when  he  heard  how  nearly  she  had  been 
trampled  upon,  she  was  abundantly  satisfied  by  his  look  of  deep 
affection  and  solicitude  as  he  said  :  "  Heaven  bless  your  strong, 
ready  arm,  Burt !  "  "  Oh,  that  it  had  been  mine  !  "  was  his  in- 
ward thought.  He  masked  his  feelings  so  well,  however,  that 
all  perplexity  passed  from  her  mind.  She  was  eager  to  visit  the 
rose  garden  with  him,  and  when  there  he  praised  her  quickly 
acquired  skill  so  sincerely  that  her  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 
No  one  seemed  to  enjoy  the  late  but  ample  supper  more  than 
he,  or  to  make  greater  havoc  in  the  well-heaped  dish  of  straw- 
berries. "  I  tasted  none  like  these  in  New  York,"  he  said. 
"  After  all,  give  me  the  old-fashioned  kind.  We've  tried  many 
varieties,  but  the  Triomphe  de  Gand  proves  the  most  satisfac- 
tory, if  one  will  give  it  the  attention  it  deserves.  The  fruit 
ripens  early  and  lasts  till  late.  It  is  firm  and  good  even  in 
cool,  wet  weather,  and  positively  delicious  after  a  sunny  day 
like  this." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Webb,"  said  his  mother,  smiling.  "It's 
the  best  of  all  the  kinds  we've  had,  except,  perhaps,  the  Presi- 
dent Wilder,  but  that  doesn't  bear  well  in  our  garden." 


CHASED  BY  A    THUNDER-SHOWER.          273 

"  Well,  mother,"  he  replied,  with  a  laugh,  "  the  best  is  not 
too  good  for  you.  I  have  a  row  of  Wilders,  however,  for  your 
especial  benefit,  but  they're  late,  you  know." 

The  next  morning  he  went  into  the  haying  with  as  much 
apparent  zest  as  Leonard.  They  began  with  red-top  clover. 
The  growth  had  been  so  heavy  that  in  many  places  it  had 
"lodged,"  or  fallen,  and  it  had  to  be  cut  with  scythes.  Later 
on,  the  mowing-machine  would  be  used  in  the  timothy  fields 
and  meadows.  Amy,  from  her  open  window,  watched  him  as 
he  steadily  bent  to  the  work,  and  she  inhaled  with  pleasure  the 
odors  from  the  bleeding  clover,  for  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
Cliffords  to  cut  their  grasses  early,  while  full  of  the  native  juices. 
Rakes  followed  the  scythes  speedily,  and  the  clover  was  piled 
up  into  compact  little  heaps,  or  "  cocks,"  to  sweat  out  its  moist- 
ure rather  than  yield  it  to  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  said  Amy,  at  the  dinner- table,  "my  bees  won't 
fare  so  well,  now  that  you  are  cutting  down  so  much  of  their 
pasture." 

"  Red  clover  affords  no  pasturage  for  honey-bees,"  said  Webb, 
laughing.  "  How  easily  .he  seems  to  laugh  of  late  ! "  Amy 
thought.  "  They  can't  reach  the  honey  in  the  long,  tube-like 
blossoms.  Here  the  bumble-bees  have  everything  their  way, 
and  get  it  all  except  what  is  sipped  by  the  humming-birds,  with 
their  long  beaks,  as  they  feed  on  the  minute  insects  within  the 
flowers.  I've  heard  the  question,  Of  what  use  are  bumble- 
bees ?  —  I  like  to  say  bumble  best,  as  I  did  when  a  boy.  Well, 
I've  been  told  that  red  clover  cannot  be  raised  without  this  in- 
sect, which,  passing  from  flower  to  flower,  carries  the  fertilizing 
pollen.  In  Australia  the  rats  and  the  field  mice  were  so  abun- 
dant that  they  destroyed  these  bees,  which,  as  you  know,  make 
their  nests  on  the  ground,  and  so  cats  had  to  be  imported  in 
order  to  give  the  bumble-bees  and  red  clover  a  chance  for  life. 
There  is  always  trouble  in  nature  unless  an  equilibrium  is  kept 
up.  Much  as  I  dislike  cats,  I  must  admit  that  they  have  con- 
tributed largely  towards  the  prosperity  of  an  incipient  empire." 


274  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,"  remarked  Leonard,  "  I  was  cruel 
enough  to  catch  bumble-bees  and  pull  them  apart  for  the  sake 
of  the  sac  of  honey  they  carry." 

Alf  hung  his  head,  and  looked  very  conscious.  "  Own  up, 
Alf,"  laughed  Webb. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  any  worse  than  papa,"  said  the  boy. 

All  through  the  afternoon  the  musical  sound  of  whetting  the 
scythes  with  the  rifle  rang  out  from  time  to  time,  and  in  the 
evening  Leonard  said,  "  If  this  warm,  dry  weather  holds  till  to- 
morrow night,  we  shall  get  in  our  clover  in  perfect  condition." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  the  two-horse  wagon, 
surmounted  by  the  hay-rack,  went  into  the  barn  again  and 
again  with  its  fragrant  burden ;  but  at  last  Amy  was  aroused 
from  her  book  by  a  heavy  vibration  of  thunder.  Going  to  a 
window  facing  the  west,  she  saw  a  threatening  cloud  that  every 
moment  loomed  vaster  and  darker.  The  great  vapory  heads, 
tipped  with  light,  towered  rapidly,  until  at  last  the  sun  passed 
into  a  sudden  eclipse  that  was  so  deep  as  to  create  almost  a 
twilight.  As  the  cloud  approached,  there  was  a  low,  distant, 
continuous  sound,  quite  distinct  fromne  arer  and  heavier  peals, 
which  after  brief  and  briefer  intervals  followed  the  lightning 
gleams  athwart  the  gloom.  She  saw  that  the  hay-makers  were 
gathering  the  last  of  the  clover,  and  raking,  pitching,  and  load- 
ing with  eager  haste,  their  forms  looking  almost  shadowy  in  the 
distance  and  the  dim  light.  Their  task  was  nearly  completed, 
and  the  horses'  heads  were  turned  barnward,  when  a  flash  of 
blinding  intensity  came,  with  an  instantaneous  crash,  that  roared 
away  to  the  eastward  with  deep  reverberations.  Amy  shud- 
dered, and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  When  she  looked 
again,  the  clover-field  and  all  that  it  contained  seemed  annihi- 
lated. The  air  was  thick  with  dust,  straws,  twigs,  and  foliage 
torn  away,  and  the  gust  passed  over  the  house  with  a  howl  of 
fury  scarcely  less  appalling  than  the  thunder-peal  had  been. 
Trembling,  and  almost  faint  with  fear,  she  strained  her  eyes 
towards  the  point  where  she  had  last  seen  Webb  loading  the 


CHASED  BY  A    THUNDER-SHOWER.          275 

41 

hay-rack.  The  murky  obscurity  lightened  up  a  little,  and  in  a, 
moment  or  two  she  saw  him  whipping  the  horses  into  a  gallop. 
The  doors  of  the  barn  stood  open,  and  the  rest  of  the  workers 
had  taken  a  cross-cut  towards  it,  while  Mr.  Clifford  was  on  the 
piazza,  shouting  for  them  to  hurry.  Great  drops  splashed 
against  the  window-panes,  and  the  heavy,  monotonous  sound 
of  the  coming  torrent  seemed  to  approach  like  the  rush  of  a 
locomotive.  Webb,  with  the  last  load,  is  wheeling  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  barn.  A  second  later,  and  the  horses'  feet  re- 
sound on  the  planks  of  the  floor.  Then  all  is  hidden,  and  the 
rain  pours  against  the  window  like  a  cataract.  In  swift  alterna- 
tion of  feeling  she  clapped  her  hands  in  applause,  and  ran 
down  to  meet  Mr.  Clifford,  who,  with  much  effort,  was  shutting 
the  door  against  the  gale.  When  he  turned  he  rubbed  his 
hands  and  laughed  as  he  said,  "  Well,  I  never  saw  Webb  chased 
so  sharply  by  a  thunder-shower  before ;  but  he  won  the  race, 
and  the  clover's  safe." 

The  storm  soon  thundered  away  to  parts  unknown,  the  setting 
sun  spanning  its  retreating  murkiness  with  a  magnificent  bow ; 
long  before  the  rain  ceased  trie  birds  were  exulting  in  jubilant 
chorus,  and  the  air  grew  still  and  deliciously  cool  and  fragrant. 
When  at  last  the  full  moon  rose  over  the"  Beacon  Mountains 
there  was  not  a  cloud  above  the  horizon,  and  Nature,  in  all  her 
shower-gemmed  and  June-clad  loveliness,  was  like  a  radiant 
beauty  lost  in  revery. 


276  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    RESCUE    OF   A    HOME. 

WHO  remembers  when  his  childhood  ceased  ?  Who  can 
name  the  hour  when  buoyant,  thoughtless,  half-reckless 
youth  felt  the  first  sobering  touch  of  manhood,  or  recall  the  day 
when  he  passed  over  the  summit  of  his  life,  and  faced  the  long 
decline  of  age  ?  As  imperceptibly  do  the  seasons  blend  when 
one  passes  and  merges  into  another.  There  were  traces  of 
summer  in  May,  lingering  evidences  of  spring  far  into  June, 
and  even  in  sultry  July  came  days  in  which  the  wind  in  the 
groves  and  the  chirp  of  insects  at  night  foretold  the  autumn. 

The  morning  that  followed  the  thunder-shower  was  one  of 
warm,  serene  beauty.  The  artillery  of  heaven  had  done  no 
apparent  injury.  A  rock  may  have  been  riven  in  the  mountains, 
a  lonely  tree  splintered,  but  homes  were  safe,  the  warm  earth 
was  watered,  and  the  air  purified.  With  the  dawn  Amy's  bees 
were  out  at  work,  gleaning  the  last  sweets  from  the  white  clover, 
that  was  on  the  wane",  from  the  flowers  of  the  garden,  field,  and 
forest.  The  rose  garden  yielded  no  honey  :  the  queen  of  flowers 
is  visited  by  no  bees.  The  sweetbrier,  or  eglantine,  belonging 
to  this  family  is  an  exception,  however,  and  if  the  sweets  of 
these  wild  roses  could  be  harvested,  an  Ariel  would  not  ask  for 
daintier  sustenance. 

White   and   delicate  pink  hues  characterize  the  flowers  of 
early  spring.     In  June  the  wild  blossoms  emulate  the  skies,  and  ' 
blue   predominates.     In   July  and  August  many* of  the  more 
sensitive  in  Flora's  train  blush  crimson  under  the  direct  gaze 'of 


THE  RESCUE  OF  A   HOME.  277 

the  sun.  Yellow  hues  hold  their  own  throughout  the  year,  from 
the  dandelions  that  first  star  the  fields  to  the  golden-rod  that 
flames  until  quenched  by  frost  and  late  autumn  storms. 

During  the  latter  partjDf  June  the  annual  roses  of  the  garden 
were  in  all  stages  and  conditions.  Beautiful  buds  could  be 
gleaned  among  the  developing  seed  receptacles  and  matured 
flowers  that  were  casting  their  petals  on  every  breeze.  The 
thrips  and  the  disgusting  rose-bug  were  also  making  havoc  here 
and  there.  But  an  untiring  vigilance  watched  over  the  rose 
garden.  Morning,  noon,  and  evening  Webb  cut  away  the  fad- 
ing roses,  and  Amy  soon  learned  to  aid  him,  for  she  saw  that 
his  mind  was  bent  on  maintaining  the  roses  in  this  little  nook 
at  the  highest  attainable  point  of  perfection.  It  is  astonishing 
how  greatly  nature  can  be  assisted  and  directed  by  a  little 
skilled  labor  at  the  right  time.  Left  to  themselves,  the  superb 
varieties  in  the  rose  garden  would  have  spent  the  remainder  of 
the  summer  and  autumn  chiefly  in  the  development  of  seed- 
vessels,  and  in  resting  after  their  first  bloom.  But  the  pruning- 
knife  had  been  too  busy  among  them,  and  the  thoroughly 
fertilized  soil  sent  up  supplies  that  must  be  disposed  of.  As 
soon  as  the  bushes  had  given  what  may  be  termed  their  first 
annual  bloom  they  were  cut  back  half-way  to  the  ground,  and 
dormant  buds  were  thus  forced  into  immediate  growth.  Mean- 
while the  new  shoots  that  in  spring  had  started  from  the  roots 
were  already  loaded  with  buds,  and  so,  by  a  little  management 
and  attention,  the  bloom  -would  be  maintained  until  frosty  nights 
should  bring  the  sleep  of  winter.  No  rose-bug  escaped  Webb's 
vigilant  search,  and  the  foliage  was  so  often  sprayed  by  a  garden 
syringe  with  an  infusion  of  white  hellebore  that  thrips  and  slugs 
met  their  deserved  fate  before  they  had  done  any  injury.  Thus 
for  Mrs.  Clifford  and  Amy  was  maintained  a  supply  of  these  ex- 
quisite flowers,  which  in  a  measure  became  a  part  of  their 
daily  food. 

Nature  was  culminating.  On  every  side  was  the  fulfilment 
of  its  innumerable  promises.  The  bluebird,  with  the  softness 


2/8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

of  June  in  his  notes,  had  told  his  love  amid  the  snows  and  gales 
of  March,  and  now,  with  unabated  constancy,  and  with  all  a 
father's  solicitude,  he  was  caring  for  his  third  nestful  of  fledg- 
lings. Young  orioles  were  essaying  flight  from  their  wind- 
rocked  cradles  on  the  outer  boughs  of  the  elms.  Phoebe-birds, 
with  nests  beneath  bridges  over  running  streams,  had,  neverthe- 
less, the  skill  to  land  their  young  on  the  banks.  Nature  was 
like  a  vast  nursery,  and  from  gardens,  lawns,  fields,  and  forest 
the  cries  and  calls  of  feathered  infancy  were  heard  all  day,  and 
sometimes  in  the  darkness,  as  owls,  hawks,  and  other  night 
prowlers  added  to  the  fearful  sum  of  the  world's  tragedies. 
The  cat-birds,  that  had  built  in  some  shrubbery  near  the  house, 
had  by  the  last  of  June  done  much  to  gain  Amy's  good-will 
and  respect.  As  their  domestic  character  and  operations  could 
easily  be  observed,  she  had  visited  them  almost  daily  from  the 
time  they  had  laid  the  dry-twig  and  leafy  foundation  of  their 
nest  until  its  lining  of  fine  dry  grasses  was  completed.  She 
had  found  that,  although  inclined  to  mock  and  gibe  at  out- 
siders, they  were  loyal  and  affectionate  to  each  other.  In  their 
home-building,  in  the  incubation  of  the  deep  bluish-green  eggs, 
and  in  the  care  of  the  young,  now  almost  ready  to  fly,  they  had 
been  mutually  helpful  and  considerate,  fearless  and  even  fierce 
in  attacking  all  who  approached  too  near  their  domicile.  To 
Amy  and  her  daily  visits  they  had  become  quite  reconciled, 
even  as  she  had  grown  interested  in  them,  in  spite  of  a  certain 
lack  of  the  high  breeding  which  characterized  the  thrushes  and 
other  favorites. 

"  My  better  acquaintance  with  them,"  she  said  one  evening 
to  Dr.  Marvin,  who,  with  his  wife,  had  stopped  at  the  Cliffords' 
in  passing,  "  has  taught  me  a  lesson.  I  think  I'm  too  much  in- 
clined to  sweeping  censure  on  the  exhibition  of  a  few  disagree- 
able traits.  I've  learned  that  the  gossips  in  yonder  bushes  have 
some  excellent  qualities,  and  I  suppose  you  find  that  this  is  true 
of  the  gossips  among  your  patients." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  but  the  human  gossips  draw  the 


THE  RESCUE  .OF  A   HOME.  279 

more  largely  on  one's  charity ;  and  if  you  knew  how  many  pes- 
tiferous slugs  and  insects  your  neighbors  in  the  shrubbery  have 
already  destroyed,  the  human  genus  of  gossip  would  suffer  still 
more  in  comparison." 

That  Amy  had  become  so  interested  in  these  out-door  neigh- 
bors turned  out  to  their  infinite  advantage,  for  one  morning 
their  excited  cries  of  alarm  secured  her  attention.  Hastening 
to  ^the  locality  of  their  nest,  she  looked  upon  a  scene  that  chilled 
the  blood  in  her  own  veins.  A  huge  black-snake  suspended 
his  weight  along  the  branches  of  the  shrubbery  with  entire  con- 
fidence and  ease,  and  was  in  the  act  of  swallowing  a  fledgling 
that,  even  as  Amy  looked,  sent  out  its  last  despairing  peep. 
The  parent  birds  were  frantic  with  terror,  and  their  anguish  and 
fearless  efforts  to  save  their  young  redeemed  them  forever  in 
Amy's  eyes. 

"Webb!"  she  cried,  since,  for  some  reason,  he  ever  came 
first  to  her  mind  in  an  emergency.  It  so  happened  that  he  had 
just  come  from  the  hay-field  to  rest  awhile  and  prepare  for  din- 
ner. In  a  moment  he  was  at  her  side,  and  followed  with  hasty 
glance  her  pointing  finger. 

"  Come  away,  Amy,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  at  her  pale  face 
and  dilated  eyes.  "  I  do  not  wish  you  to  witness  a  scene  like 
that ;  "  and  almost  by  force  he  drew  her  to  the  piazza..  In  a 
moment  he  was  out  with  a  breech-loading  gun,  and  as  the 
smoke  of  the  discharge  lifted,  she  saw  a  writhing,  sinuous  form 
fall  heavily  to  the  earth.  After  a.  brief  inspection  Webb  came 
towards  her  in  smiling  assurance,  saying  :  "  The  wretch  got  only 
one  of  the  little  family.  Four  birds  are  left.  There  now,  don't 
feel  so  badly.  You  have  saved  a  home  from  utter  desolation. 
That,  surely,  will  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  remember." 

"What  could  I  have  done  if  you  had  not  come?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  of  what  you  might  have  done  : —  emu- 
lated the  mother-bird,  perhaps,  and  flown  at  the  enemy." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  near  when  I  called  your  name," 
she  said.  "  It  was  entirely  instinctive  on  my  part ;  and  I  be- 


280  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

lieve,"  she  added,  musingly,  looking  with  a  child's  directness 
into  his  eyes,  "  that  one's  instincts  are  usually  right ;  don't  you  ?  " 

He  turned  away  to  hide  the  feeling  of  intense  pleasure 
caused  by  her  words,  but  only  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  hope  I 
may  never  fail  you,  Amy,  when  you  turn  to  me  for  help." 
Then  he  added,  quickly,  as  if  hastening  away  from  delicate 
ground  :  "  While  those  large  black-snakes  are  not  poisonous, 
they  are  ugly  customers  sometimes.  I  have  read  of  an  instance 
in  which  a  boy  put  his  hand  into  the  hole  of  a  tree  where  there 
had  been  a  bluebird's  nest,  and  touched  the  cold  scales  of  one 
of  these  snakes.  The  boy  took  to  his  heels,  with  the  snake 
after  him,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  what  would  have  happened  had 
not  a  man  ploughing  near  come  to  the  rescue  with  a  heavy  ox- 
whip.  What  I  should  fear  most  in  your  case  would  be  a  ner- 
vous shock  had  the  snake  even  approached  you,  for  you  looked 
as  if  you  had  inherited  from  Mother  Eve  an  unusual  degree  of 
hate  for  the  reptile." 

The  report  of  the  gun  had  attracted  Alf  and  others  to  the 
scene.  Amy,  with  a  look  of  smiling  confidence,  said  :  "  Per- 
haps you  have  rescued  me  as  well  as  the  birds.  I  can't  believe, 
though,  that  such  a  looking  creature  could  have  tempted  Eve 
to  either  good  or  evil ;  "  and  she  entered  the  house,  leaving  him 
in  almost  a  friendly  mood  towards  the  cause  of  the  cat-bird's 
woe. 

Alf  exulted  over  the  slain  destroyer,  and  even  Johnnie  felt  no 
compunction  at  the  violent  termination  of  its  life.  The  former, 
with  much  sportsmanlike  importance,  measured  it,  and  at  the 
dinner-table  announced  its  length  to  be  a  little  over  four  feet. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Webb,  "your  adventure,  Amy,  reminds 
me  of  one  of  the  finest  descriptions  I  ever  read  ;  "  and  jumping 
up,  he  obtained  from  the  library  Burroughs's  account  of  a  like 
scene  and  rescue.  "  I  will  just  give  you  some  glimpses  of  the 
picture,"  he  said,  reading  the  following  sentences  :  " '  Three  or 
four  yards  from  me  was  the  nest,  beneath  which,  in  long  fes- 
toons, rested  a  huge  black-snake.  I  can  conceive  of  nothing 


THE  RESCUE  OF  A   HOME.  281 

more  overpoweringly  terrible  to  an  unsuspecting  family  of  birds 
than  the  sudden  appearance  above  their  domicile  of  the  head 
and  neck  of  this  arch-enemy.  One  thinks  of  the  great  myth 
of  the  tempter  and  the  cause  of  all  our  woe,  and  wonders  if  the 
Arch-One  is  not  playing  off  some  of  his  pranks  before  him. 
Whether  we  call  it  snake  or  devil  matters  little.  I  could  but 
admire  his  terrible  beauty,  however ;  his  black,  shining  folds ; 
his  easy,  gliding  movement  —  head  erect,  eyes  glistening, 
tongue  playing  like  subtile  flame,  and  the  invisible  means  of  his 
almost  winged  locomotion.  Presently,  as  he  came  gliding  down 
the  slender  body  of  a  leaning  alder,  his  attention  was  attracted 
by  a  slight  movement  of  my  arm ;  eying  me  an  instant  with 
that  crouching,  utter,  motionless  gaze  which  I  believe  only 
snakes  and  devils  can  assume,  he  turned  quickly,'  "  etc. 

Amy  shuddered,  and  Mrs.  Clifford  looked  a  little  troubled 
that  the  scene  in  Eden  should  be  spoken  of  as  merely  a  "  myth." 
When  she  was  a  child  "  Paradise  Lost "  had  been  her  story- 
book, and  the  stories  had  become  real  to  her.  Burt,  however, 
not  to  be  outdone,  recalled  his  classics. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  I  can  almost  parallel  your  descrip- 
tion from  the  '  Iliad '  of  Homer.  I  won't  pretend  that  I  can 
give  you  the  Greek,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  Greek  to  you. 
I'll  get  even  with  you,  Webb,  however,  and  read  an  extract  from 
Pope's  translation,"  and  he  also  made  an  excursion  to  the 
library.  Returning,  he  said,  "  Don't  ask  me  for  the  connection," 
and  read  : 

"  '  Straight  to  the  tree  his  sanguine  spires  he  rolled, 
And  curled  around  in  many  a  winding  fold. 
The  topmost  branch  a  mother-bird  possessed ; 
Eight  callow  infants  filled  the  mossy  nest; 
Herself  the  ninth  :  the  serpent  as  he  hung 
Stretched  his  black  jaws,  and  crashed  the  crying  young; 
While  hovering  near,  with  miserable  moan, 
The  drooping  mother  wailed  her  children  gone. 
The  mother  last,  as  round  the  nest  she  flew, 
Seized  by  the  beating  wing,  the  monster  slew.' " 


282  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Leonard.  "  I  am  now  quite  reconciled  to 
your  four  years  at  college.  Heretofore  I  had  thought  you  had 
passed  through  it  as  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  passed 
through  the  fiery  furnace,  without  even  the  smell  of  fire  upon 
their  garments,  but  I  now  at  last  detect  a  genuine  Greek  aroma." 

"  I  think  Burt's  quotation  very  pat,"  said  Amy,  "  and  I  could 
not  have  believed  that  anything  written  so  long  ago  would  apply 
so  marvellously  to  what  I  have  seen  to-day." 

"  Marvellously  pat,  indeed,"  said  Leonard.  "  And  since  your 
quotation  has  led  to  such  a  nice  little  pat  on  your  classical  back, 
Burt,  you  must  feel  repaid  for  your  long  burning  of  the  mid- 
night oil." 

Burt  flushed  slightly,  but  he  turned  Leonard's  shafts  with 
smiling  assurance,  and  said  :  "  Amply  repaid.  I  have  ever  had 
an  abiding  confidence  that  my  education  would  be  of  use  to 
me  at  some  time." 

The  long  days  grew  hot,  and  often  sultry,  but  the  season 
brought  unremitting  .toil.  The  click  of  the  mowing-machine, 
softened  by  distance,  came  from  field  after  field.  As  the  grain 
in  the  rye  grew  plump  and  heavy,  the  heads  drooped  more  and 
more,  and  changed  from  a  pale  yellow  to  the  golden  hue  that 
announced  the  hour  of  harvest.  In  smooth  and  level  fields 
the  reaping-machine  also  lightened  and  expedited  labor>  but 
there  was  one  upland  slope  that  was  too  rough  for  anything  ex- 
cept the  old-fashioned  cradle.  On  a  breezy  afternoon  Amy 
went  out  to  sketch  the  harvesters,  and  from  the  shade  of  an 
adjacent  tree  to  listen  to  the  rhythmical  rush  and  rustle  as  the 
blade  passed  through  the  hollow  stocks,  and  the  cradle  dropped 
the  gathered  wealth  in  uniform  lines.  Almost  immediately  the 
prostrate  grain  was  transformed  into  tightly  girthed  sheaves. 
How  black  Abram's  great  paw  looked  as  he  twisted  a  wisp  of 
straw,  bound  together  the  yellow  stalks,  and  tucked  under  the 
end  of  his  improvised  rope  ! 

Webb  was  leading  the  reapers,  and  they  had  to  step  quickly 
to  keep  pace  with  him.  As  Amy  appeared  upon  the  scene  he 


THE  RESCUE   OF  A    HOME.  283 

had  done  no  more  than  take  off  his  hat  and  wave  it  to  her,  but 
as  the  men  circled  round  the  field  near  her  again,  she  saw  that 
her  acquaintance  of  the  mountain  cabin  was  manfully  bringing 
up  the  rear.  Every  time,  before  Lumley  stooped  to  the  sweep 
of  his  cradle,  she  saw  that  he  stole  a  glance  towards  her,  and 
she  recognized  him  with  cordial  good-will.  He,  too,  doffed 
his  hat  in  grateful  homage,  and  as  he  paused  a  moment  in  his 
honest  toil,  and  stood  erect,  he  unconsciously  asserted  the  man- 
hood that  she  had  restored  to  him.  She  caught  his  attitude, 
and  he  became  the  subject  of  her  sketch.  Rude  and  simple 
though  it  was,  it  would  ever  recall  to  her  a  pleasant  picture  — 
the  diminishing  area  of  standing  rye,  golden  in  the  afternoon 
sunshine,  with  light  billows  running  over  it  before  the  breeze, 
Webb  leading,  with  the  strong,  assured  progress  that  would  ever 
characterize  his  steps  through  life,  and  poor  Lumley,  who  had 
been  wronged  by  generations  that  had  passed  away,  as  well  as 
by  his  own  evil,  following  in  an  honest  emulation  which  she  had 
evoked. 


284  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST. 

AS  far  as  possible,  the  prudent  Leonard,  who  was  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  harvest  campaign,  had  made 
everything  snug  before  the  Fourth  of  July,  which  Alf  ushered 
in  with  untimely  patriotic  fervor.  Almost  before  the  first  bird 
had  taken  its  head  from  under  its  wing  to  look  for  the  dawn, 
he  had  fired  a  salute  from  a  little  brass  cannon.  Not  very  long 
afterwards  the  mountains  up  and  down  the  river  were  echoing 
with  the  thunder  of  the  guns  at  West  Point  and  Newburgh. 
The  day  bade  fair  to  justify  its  proverbial  character  for  sultri- 
ness. Even  in  the  early  morning  the  air  was  languid  and  the 
heat  oppressive.  The  sun  was  but  a  few  hours  high  before 
the  song  of  the  birds  almost  ceased,  with  the  exception  of  the 
somewhat  sleepy  whistling  of  the  orioles.  They  are  half  tropi- 
cal in  nature  as  well  as  plumage,  and  their  manner  during  the 
heat  of  the  day  is  like  that  of  languid  Southern  beauties.  They 
kept  flitting  here  and  there  through  their  leafy  retirement  in  a 
mild  form  of  restlessness,  exchanging  soft  notes — pretty  non- 
sense, no  doubt  —  which  often  terminated  abruptly,  as  if  they 
had  not  energy  enough  to  complete  the  brief  strain  attempted. 
Alf,  with  his  Chinese  crackers  and  his  cannon,  and  Johnnie 
and  Ned,  with  their  torpedoes,  kept  things  lively  during  the 
forenoon,  but  their  elders  were  disposed  to  lounge  and  rest. 
The  cherry-trees,  laden  with  black  and  white  ox-hearts,  were 
visited.  One  of  the  former  variety  was  fairly  sombre  with  the 
abundance  of  its  dark-hued  fruit,  and  Amy's  red  lips  grew 


A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST.  28$ 

purple  as  Burt  threw  her  down  the  largest  and  ripest  from  the 
topmost  boughs.  Webb,  carrying  a  little  basket  lined  with 
grapevine  leaves,  gleaned  the  long  row  of  Antwerp  raspberries. 
The  first  that  ripen  of  this  kind  are  the  finest  and  most  deli- 
cious, and  their  strong  aroma  announced  his  approach  long 
before  he  reached  the  house.  His  favorite  Triomphe  de  Gand 
strawberries,  that  had  supplied  the  table  three  weeks  before, 
were  still  yielding  a  fair  amount  of  fruit,  and  his  mother  was 
never  without  her  dainty  dish  of  pale  red  berries,  to  which  the 
sun  had  been  adding  sweetness  with  the  advancing  season  until 
nature's  combination  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

By  noon  the  heat  was  oppressive,  and  Alf  and  Ned  were 
rolling  on  the  grass  under  a  tree,  quite  satiated  for  a  time  with 
two  elements  of  a  boy.'s  elysium,  fire- crackers  and  cherries. 
The  family  gathered  in  the  wide  hall,  through  the  open  doors 
of  which  was  a  slight  draught  of  air.  All  had  donned  their 
coolest  costumes,  and  their  talk  was  quite  as  languid  as  the 
occasional  notes  and  chirpings  of  the  birds  without.  Amy  was 
reading  a  magazine  in  a  very  desultory  way,  her  eyelids  droop- 
ing over  every  page  before  it  was  finished,  Webb  and  Burt  fur- 
tively admiring  the  exquisite  hues  that  the  heat  brought  into 
her  face,  and  the  soft  lustre  of  her  eyes.  Old  Mr.  Clifford 
nodded  over  his  newspaper  until  his  spectacles  clattered  to  the 
floor,  at  which  they  all  laughed,  and  asked  for  the  news.  His 
invalid  wife  lay  upon  the  sofa  in  dreamy,  painless  repose.  To 
her  the  time  was  like  a  long,  quiet  nooning  by  the  wayside  of 
lifc,  with  all  her  loved  band  around  her,  and  her  large,  dark 
eyes  rested  on  one  and  another  in  loving,  lingering  glances  — 
each  so  different,  yet  each  so  dear  !  Sensible  Leonard  was 
losing  no  time,  but  was  audibly  resting  in  a  great  wooden  rock- 
ing-chair at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall.  Maggie  only,  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  the  household,  was  not  wilted  by  the  heat. 
She  flitted  in  and  out  occasionally,  looking  almost  girlish  in  her 
white  wrapper.  She  had  the  art  of  keeping  house,  of  banishing 
dust  and  disorder  without  becoming  an  embodiment  of  dishey- 


286  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

elled  disorder  herself.  No  matter  what  she  was  doing,  she 
always  appeared  trim  and  neat,  and  in  the  lover-like  expression 
of  her  husband's  eyes,  as  they  often  followed  her,  she  had  her 
reward.  She  was  not  deceived  by  the  semi-torpid  condition  of 
the  household,  and  knew  well  what  would  be  expected  in  a 
Fourth-of-July  dinner.  Nor  was  she  disappointed.  The  tinkle 
of  the  bell  at  two  o'clock  awakened  unusual  animation,  and 
then  she  had  her  triumph.  Leonard  beamed  upon  a  hind- 
quarter  of  lamb  roasted  to  the  nicest  turn  of  brownness.  A 
great  dish  of  Champion-of- England  pease,  that  supreme  product 
of  the  kitchen-garden,  was  one  of  the  time-honored  adjuncts, 
while  new  potatoes,  the  first  of  which  had  been  dug  that  day, 
had  half  thrown  off  their  mottled  jackets  in  readiness  for  the 
feast.  Nature  had  been  Maggie's  handmaid  in  spreading  that 
table,  and  art,  with  its  culinary  mysteries  and  combinations,  was 
conspicuously  absent.  If  Eve  had  had  a  kitchen  range  and  the 
Garden  of  Eden  to  draw  upon,  Adam  could  scarcely  have  fared 
better  than  did  the  Clifford  household  that  day.  The  dishes 
heaped  with  strawberries,  raspberries,  cherries,  and  white  grape- 
currants  that  had  been  gathered  with  the  dew  upon  them  might 
well  tempt  the  most  blase  resident  of  a  town  to  man's  primal 
calling. 

Before  they  reached  their  iced  tea,  which  on  this  hot  day 
took  the  place  of  coffee,  there  was  a  distant  peal  of  thunder. 

"  I  knew  it  would  come,"  said  old  Mr.  Clifford.  "  We  shall 
have  a  cool  night,  after  all." 

"  A  Fourth  rarely  passes  without  showers,"  Leonard  remarked. 
"  That's  why  I  was  so  strenuous  about  getting  all  our  grass  and 
grain  that  was  down  under  cover  yesterday." 

"You  are  not  the  only  prudent  one,"  Maggie  added,  compla- 
cently. "  I've  made  my  currant  jelly,  and  it  jellied  beautifully  : 
it  always  does  if  I  make  it  before  the  Fourth  and  the  showers 
that  come  about  this  time.  It's  queer,  but  a  rain  on  the  currants 
after  they  are  fairly  ripe  almost  spoils  them  for  jelly." 

The  anticipations  raised  by  the  extreme  sultriness  were  ful- 


A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST.  287 

filled  at  first  only  in  part.  Instead  of  a  heavy  shower  accom- 
panied by  violent  gusts,  there  was  a  succession  of  tropical  and 
vertical  down- pourings,  with  now  and  then  a  sharp  flash  and  a 
rattling  peal,  but  usually  a  heavy  monotone  of  thunder  from 
bolts  flying  in  the  distance.  One  great  cloud  did  not  sweep 
across  the  sky  like  a  concentrated  charge,  leaving  all  clear  be- 
hind it,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  but,  as  if  from  an  immense 
reserve,  Nature  appeared  to  send  out  her  vapory  forces  by 
battalions.  Instead  of  enjoying  the  long  siesta  which  she  had 
promised  herself,  Amy  spent  the  afternoon  in  watching  the 
cloud  scenery.  A  few  miles  southwest  of  the  house  was  a 
prominent  highland  that  happened  to  be  in  the  direct  line  of 
the  successive  showers.  This  formed  a  sort  of  gauge  of  their 
advance.  A  cloud  would  loom  up  behind  it,  darken  it,  obscure 
it  until  it  faded  out  even  as  a  shadow ;  then  the  nearer 
spurs  of  the  mountains  would  be  blotted  out,  and  in  eight  or 
ten  minutes  even  the  barn  and  the  adjacent  groves  would  be 
but  dim  outlines  through  the  myriad  rain-drops.  The  cloud 
would  soon  be  well  to  the  eastward,  the  dim  landscape  take 
form  and  distinctness,  and  the  distant  highland  appear  again, 
only  to  be  obscured  in  like  manner  within  the  next  half-hour. 
It  was  as  if  invisible  and  Titanic  gardeners  were  stepping  .across 
the  country  with  their  watering-pots. 

Burt  and  Webb  sat  near  Amy  at  the  open  window,  the  former 
chatting  easily,  and  often  gayly.  Webb,  with  his  deep-set  eyes 
fixed  on  the  clouds,  was  comparatively  silent.  At  last  he  rose 
somewhat  abruptly,  and  was  not  seen  again  until  evening,  when 
he  seemed  to  be  in  unusually  good  spirits.  As  the  dusk  deep- 
ened he  aided  Alf  and  Johnnie  in  making  the  finest  possible 
display  of  their  fireworks,  and  for  half  an  hour  the  excitement 
was  intense.  The  family  applauded  from  the  piazza.  Leonard 
arid  his  father,  remembering  the  hay  and  grain  already  stored  in 
the  barn,  congratulated  each  other  that  the  recent  showers  had 
prevented  all  danger  from  sparks. 

After  the  last  rocket  had  run  its'  brief,  fiery  course,  Alf  and 


288  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Johnnie  were  well  content  to  go  with  Webb,  Burt,  and  Amy  to 
an  upper  room  whose  windows  looked  out  on  Newburgh  Bay 
and  to  the  westward.  Near  and  far,  from  their  own  and  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  rockets  were  flaming  into  the  sky, 
and  Roman  candles  sending  up  their  globes  of  fire.  But 
Nature  was  having  a  celebration  of  her  own,  which  so  far  sur- 
passed anything  terrestrial  that  it  soon  won  their  entire  atten- 
tion. A  great  black  cloud  that  hung  darkly  in  the  west  was 
the  background  for  the  electric  pyrotechnics.  Against  this 
obscurity  the  lightning  played  almost  every  freak  imaginable. 
At  one  moment  there  would  be  an  immense  illumination,  and 
the  opaque  cloud  would  become  vivid  gold.  Again,  across  its 
blackness  a  dozen  fiery  rills  of  light  would  burn  their  way  in 
zigzag  channels,  and  not  infrequently  a  forked  bolt  would  blaze 
earthward.  Accompanying  these  vivid  and  central  effects  were 
constant  illuminations  of  sheet-lightning  all  round  the  horizon, 
and  the  night  promised  to  be  a  carnival  of  thunder-showers 
throughout  the  land.  The  extreme  heat  continued,  and  was 
rendered  far  more  oppressive  by  the  humidity  of  the  atmosphere. 

The  awful  grandeur  of  the  cloud  scenery  at  last  so  oppressed 
Amy  that  she  sought  relief  in  Maggie's  lighted  room.  As  we 
have  already  seen,  her  sensitive  organization  was  peculiarly 
affected  by  an  atmosphere  highly  charged  with  electricity. 
She  was  not  re-assured,  for  Leonard  inadvertently  remarked 
that  it  would  take  "  a  rousing  old-fashioned  storm  to  cool  and 
clear  the  air." 

"  Why,  Amy,"  exclaimed  Maggie,  "  how  pale  you  are  !  and 
your  eyes  shine  as  if  some  of  the  lightning  had  got  into  them." 

"  I  wish  it  was  morning,"  said  the  girl.  "  Such  a  sight 
oppresses  me  like 'a  great  foreboding  of  evil;"  and,  with  a 
restlessness  she  could  not  control,  she  went  down  to  Mrs. 
Clifford's  room.  She  found  Mr.  Clifford  fanning  the  invalid, 
who  was  almost  faint  from  the  heat.  Amy  took  his  place,  and 
soon  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  charge  drop  off  into  quiet 
slumber.  As  Mr.  Clifford  was  very  weary  also,  Amy  left  them 


A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST.  289 

to  their  rest,  and  went  to  the  sitting-room,  where  Webb  was 
reading.  Hurt  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  lounge  in  the  hall. 
Leonard's  prediction  promised  to  come  true.  The  thunder 
muttered  nearer  and  nearer,  but  it  was  a  sullen,  slow,  remorse- 
less approach  through  the  absolute  silence  and  darkness  with- 
out, and  therefore  was  tenfold  more  trying  to  one  nervously 
apprehensive  than  a  swift,  gusty  storm  would  have  been  in 
broad  day. 

Webb  looked  up  and  greeted  her  with  a  smile.  His  lamp 
was  shaded,  and  the  room  shadowy,  so  that  he  did  not  note 
that  Amy  was  troubled  and  depressed.  "  Shall  I  read  to  you  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  am  running  over  Hawthorne's  '  English  Note- 
Books  '  again." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and  she  sat  down  With  her 
back  to  the  windows,  through  which  shone  momentarily  the 
glare  of  the  coming  tempest.  He  had  not  read  a  page  before 
a  long,  sullen  peal  rolled  across  the  entire  arc  of  the  sky. 
"  Webb,"  faltered  Amy,  and  she  rose  and  took  an  irresolute 
step  towards  him. 

His  pre-occupation  was  instantly  gone.  Never  had  he  heard 
sweeter  music  than  that  low  appeal,  to  which  the  deep  echoes 
in  the  mountains  formed  a  strange  accompaniment.  He  stepped 
to  her  side,  took  her  hand,  and  found  it  cold  and  trembling. 
Drawing  her  within  the  radiance  of  the  lamp,  he  saw  how  pale 
she  was,  and  that  her  eyes  were  dilated  with  nervous  dread. 

"  Webb,"  she  began  again,  "  do  you  —  do  you  think  there  is 
danger? " 

"  No,  Amy,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  there  is  no  danger  for  you  in 
God's  universe." 

"  Oh,  that  frightful  glare  !  "  and  she  buried  her  face  on  his 
shoulder.  "Webb,"  she  whispered,  "won't  you  stay  up  till  the 
storm  is  over?  And  you  won't  think  me  weak  or  silly  either, 
will  you?  Indeed,  I  can'-t  help  it.  I  wish  I  had  a  little  of 
your  courage  and  strength." 

"  I  like  you  best  as  you  are,"  he  said  ;  "  and  all  my  strength 


2QO  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

is  yours  when  you  need  it.  I  understand  you,  Amy,  and  well 
know  you  cannot  help  this  nervous  dread.  I  saw  how  these 
electrical  storms  affected  you  last  February,  and  such  experi- 
ences are  not  rare  with  finely  organized  natures.  See,  I  can 
explain  it  all  with  my  matter-of-fact  philosophy.  But,  believe 
me,  there  is  no  danger.  Certainly  I  will  stay  with  you.  What 
would  I  not  do  for  you? "  he  could  not  help  adding. 

She  looked  at  him  affectionately  as  she  said,  with  a  child's 
unconscious  frankness  :  "  I  don't  know  why  it  is,  but  I  always 
feel  safe  when  with  you.  I  often  used  to  wish  that  I  had  a 
brother,  and  imagine  what  he  would  be  to  me  ;  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  a  brother  could  be  so  much  to  me  as  you  are.  — 
Oh,  Webb  ! "  and  she  almost  clung  to  him,  as  the  heavy  thunder 
pealed  nearer  than  before. 

Involuntarily  he  encircled  her  with  his  arm,  and  drew  her 
closer  to  him  in  the  impulse  of  protection.  She  felt  his  arm 
tremble,  and  wholly  misinterpreted  the  cause.  Springing  aloof, 
she  clasped  her  hands,  and  looked  around  almost  wildly. 

"Oh,  Webb,"  she  cried,  "there  is  danger.    Even  you  tremble." 

Webb  was  human,  and  had  nerves  also,  but  all  the  thunder 
that  ever  roared  could  not  affect  them  so  powerfully  as  Amy's 
head  bowed  upon  his  shoulder,  and  the  appealing  words  of  her 
absolute  trust.  He  mastered  himself  instantly,  however,  for 
he  saw  that  he  must  be  strong  and  calm  in  order  to  sustain  the 
trembling  girl  through  one  of  Nature's  most  awful  moods.  She 
was  equally  sensitive  to  the  smiling  beauty  and  the  wrath  of 
the  great  mother.  The  latter  phase  was  much  the  same  to  her 
as  if  a  loved  face  had  suddenly  become  black  with  reckless 
passion.  He  took  both  her  hands  in  a  firm  grasp,  and  said : 
"  Amy,  I  am  not  afraid,  and  you  must  not  be.  You  can  do 
much  towards  self-control.  Come,"  he  added,  in  tones  almost 
authoritative,  "  sit  here  by  me,  and  give  me  your  hand.  I  shall 
read  to  you  in  a  voice  as  quiet  and  steady  as  you  ever  heard 
me  use." 

She  obeyed,  and  he  kept  his  word.     His  strong,  even  grasp 


A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST.  291 

re-assured  her  in  a  way  that  excited  her  wonder,  and  the  ner- 
vous paroxysm  of  fear  began  to  pass  away.  While  she  did  not 
comprehend  what  he  read,  his  tones  and  expression  had  their  in- 
fluence. His  voice,  however,  was  soon  drowned  by  the  howling 
of  the  tempest  as  it  rushed  upon  them.  He  felt  her  hand  tremble 
again,  and  saw  her  look  apprehensively  towards  the  windows. 

"  Amy,"  he  said,  and  in  smiling  confidence  he  fixed  his  eyes 
on  hers  and  held  them. 

The  crisis  of  the  storm  was  indeed  terrific.  The  house 
rocked  in  the  furious  blasts.  The  uproar  without  was  frightful, 
suggesting  that  the  Evil  One  was  in  very  truth  the  "  prince  of  the 
power  of  the  air,"  and  that  he  was  abroad  with  all  his  legions. 
Amy  trembled  violently,  but  Webb's  hand  and  eyes  held  hers. 
"  Courage  !  "  he  said,  cheerily  ;  "  the  storm  is  passing." 

A  wan,  grateful  smile  glimmered  for  a  moment  on  her  pale 
face,  and  then  her  expression  passed  into  one  of  horror.  With  a 
cry  that  was  lost  in  a  deafening  crash,  she  sprang  into  his  arms. 
Even  Webb  was  almost  stunned  and  blinded  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  heard  rapid  steps.  Burt  at  last  had  been  aroused 
from  the  slumber  of  youth,  and,  fortunately  for  his  peace, 
rushed  first  into  his  mother's  room.  Webb  thought  Amy  had 
fainted,  and  he  laid  her  gently  on  the  lounge.  "  Don't  leave 
me,"  she  gasped,  faintly. 

"  Amy,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "  I  assure  you  that  all  danger  is 
now  over.  As  I  told  you  once  before,  the  centre  of  the  storm 
has  passed.  You  know  I  never  deceived  you." 

Maggie  and  Burt  now  came  running  in,  and  Webb  said, 
"  Amy  has  had  a  faint  turn.  I  will  get  her  a  glass  of  water." 

This  revived  her  speedily,  but  the  truth  of  Webb's  words 
proved  more  efficacious.  The  gale  was  sweeping  the  storm 
from  the  sky.  The  swish  of  the  torrents  mattered  little,  for  the 
thunder-peals  died  away  steadily  to  the  eastward.  Amy  made 
a  great  effort  to  rally,  for  she  felt  ashamed  of  her  weakness,  and 
feared  that  the  others  would  not  interpret  her  as  charitably  as 
Webb  had  done.  In  a  few  minutes  he  smilingly  withdrew,  and 


292  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

went  out  on  the  rear  porch  with  Leonard,  whence  they  anxiously 
scanned  the  bam  and  out-buildings.  These  were  evidently  safe, 
wherever  the  bolt  had  fallen,  and  it  must  have  struck  near.  In 
half  an  hour  there  was  a  line  of  stars  along  the  western  horizon, 
and  soon  the  repose  within  the  old  house  was  as  deep  as  that 
of  nature  without. 

Webb  Only  was  sleepless.  He  sat  at  his  open  window,  and 
saw  the  clouds  roll  away.  But  he  felt  that  a  cloud  deeper  and 
murkier  than  any  that  had  ever  blackened  the  sky  hung  over 
his  life.  He  knew  too  well  why  his  arm  had  trembled  when 
for  a  moment  it  encircled  Amy.  The  deepest  and  strongest 
impulse  of  his  soul  was  to  protect  her,  and  her  instinctive 
appeal  to  him  had  raised  a  tempest  in  his  heart  as  wild  as  that 
which  had  raged  without.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  yield  her 
to  another,  not  even  to  his  brother.  Nature  itself  pointed 
her  to  him.  It  was  to  him  she  turned  and  clung  in  her  fears. 
And  yet  she  had  not  even  dreamed  of  his  untold  wealth  of  love, 
and  probably  never  would  suspect  it.  He  could  not  reveal  it 
—  indeed,  it  must  be  the  struggle  of  his  life  to  hide  it  —  and 
she,  while  loving  him  as  a  brother,  might  easily  drift  into  an 
engagement  and  marriage  with  Burt.  Could  he  be  patient,  and 
wear  a  smiling  mask  through  it  all  ?  That  tropical  night  and  its 
experiences  taught  him  .anew  that  he  had  a  human  heart,  with 
all  its  passionate  cravings.  When  he  came  down  from  his  long 
vigil  on  the  following  morning  his  brow  was  as  serene  as  the 
scene  without.  Amy  gave  him  a  grateful  and  significant  smile, 
and  he  smiled  back  so  naturally  that  observant  Burt,  who  had 
been  a  little  uneasy  over  the  events  of  the  previous  night, 
was  wholly  relieved  of  anxiety.  They  had  scarcely  seated 
themselves  at  the  breakfast-table  before  Alf  came  running  in, 
and  said  that  an  elm  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house  had 
been  splintered  from  the  topmost  branch  to  the  roots.  All 
except  Mrs.  Clifford  went  out  to  look  at  the  smitten  tree,  and 
they  gazed  with  awe  at  the  deep  furrow  ploughed  in  the  black- 
ened wood. 


A   MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST.  293 

"It  will  live,"  said  Webb,  quietly,  as  he  turned  away;  "it 
will  probably  live  out  its  natural  life." 

Amy,  in  her  deep  sympathy,  looked  after  him  curiously. 
There  was  something  in  his  tone  and  manner  which  suggested 
a  meaning  beyond  his  words.  Not  infrequently  he  had  puzzled 


CLOUDING    UP. 


her  of  late,  and  this  added  to  her  interest  in  him.     She  under- 
stood Burt  thoroughly. 

Good  old  Mr.  Clifford  saw  in  the  shattered  tree  only  reasons 
for  profound  thankfulness,  and  words  of  Christian  gratitude 
rose  to  his  lips. 


>94  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

THE   TWO    LOVERS. 

THE  July  sun  speedily  drank  up  the  superabundant  moist- 
ure, and  the  farm  operations  went  on  with  expedition. 
The  corn  grew  green  and  strong,  and  its  leaves  stretched  up  to 
Abram's  shoulder  as  he  ran  the  cultivator  through  it  for  the 
last  time.  The  moist  sultriness  of  the  Fourth  finished  the  ox- 
heart  cherries.  They  decayed  at  once,  to  Alf's  great  regret. 
"That  is  the  trouble  with  certain  varieties  of  cherries,"  Webb 
remarked.  "  One  shower  will  often  spoil  the  entire  crop  even 
before  it  is  ripe."  But  it  so  happened  that  there  were  several 
trees  of  native  or  ungrafted  fruit  on  the  place,  and  these  sup- 
plied the  children  and  the  birds  for  many  days  thereafter.  The 
robins  never  ceased  gorging  themselves.  Indeed,  they  were 
degenerating  into  shameless  gourmands,  and  losing  the  grace 
of  song,  as  were  also  the  bobolinks  in  the  meadows.  Already 
there  was  a  perceptible  decline  in  the  morning  and  evening 
minstrelsy  of  all  the  birds,  and,  with  the  exception  of  calls  and 
twitterings,  they  grew  more  and  more  silent  through  the  midday 
heat.  With  the  white  bloom  of  the  chestnut-trees  the  last  trace 
of  spring  passed  away.  Summer  reached  its  supreme  culmina- 
tion, and  days  that  would  not  be  amiss  at  the  equator  were 
often  followed  by  nights  of  breathless  sultriness.  Early  in  the 
month  haying  and  harvest  were  over,  and  the  last  load  that 
came  down  the  lane  to  the  barn  was  ornamented  with  green 
boughs,  and  hailed  with  acclamations  by  the  farm  hands,  to 


THE    TIVO  LOVERS.  295 

whom  a  generous  supper  was  given,  and  something  substantial 
also  to  take  home  to  their  families. 

As  the  necessity  for  prompt  action  and  severe  labor  passed, 
the  Cliffords  proved  that  their  rural  life  was  not  one  of  plod- 
ding, unredeemed  toil.  For  the  next  few  weeks  Nature  would 
give  them  a  partial  respite.  She  would  finish  much  of  the 
work  which  they  had  begun.  The  corn  would  mature,  the 
oats  ripen,  without  further  intervention  on  their  part.  By  slow 
but  sure  alchemy  the  fierce  suns  would  change  the  acid  and 
bitter  juices  in  the  apples,  peaches,  plums,  and  pears  into  nectar. 
Already  Alf  was  revelling  in  the  harvest  apples,  which,  under 
Maggie's  culinary  magic,  might  tempt  an  ascetic  to  surfeit. 

While  Burt  had  manfully  done  his  part  in  the  harvest-field, 
he  had  not  made  as  long  hours  as  the  others,  and  now  was 
quite  inclined  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost  a  season  of  comparative 
leisure.  He  was  much  with  Amy,  and  she  took  pleasure  in  his 
society,  for,  as  she  characterized  his  manner  in  her  thoughts, 
he  had  grown  very  sensible.  He  had  accepted  the  situation, 
and  he  gave  himself  not  a  little  credit  for  his  philosophical 
patience.  He  regarded  himself  as  committed  to  a  deep  and 
politic  plan,  in  which,  however,  there  was  no  unworthy  guile. 
He  would  make  himself  essential  to  Amy's  happiness.  He 
would  be  so  quietly  and  naturally  devoted  to  her  that  she 
would  gradually  come  to  look  forward  to  a  closer  union  as  a 
matter  of  course.  He  also  made  it  clear  to  her  that  she  had  no 
rivals  in  his  thoughts,  or  even  admiration,  and,  as  far  as  cour- 
tesy permitted,  withdrew  from  the  society  of  a  few  favorites 
who  once  had  welcomed  him  gladly  and  often.  He  had  even 
pretended  indifference  to  the  advent  of  a  dark-eyed  beauty  to  the 
neighborhood,  and  had  made  no  efforts  to  form  her  acquaintance. 
This  stranger  from  the  city  was  so  charming,  however,  that 
he  had  felt  more  than  once  that  he  was  giving  no  slight  proof 
of  constancy.  His  fleet  horse  Thunder  was  his  great  ally,  and 
in  the  long  twilight  evenings,  he,  with  Amy,  explored  the  coun- 
try roads  far  and  near.  When  the  early  mornings  were  not  too 


296  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

warm  they  rowed  upon  the  river,  or  went  up  the  Moodna  Creek 
for  water-lilies,  which  at  that  hour  floated  upon  the  surface  with 
their  white  petals  all  expanded  —  beautiful  emblems  of  natures 
essentially  good.  From  mud  and  slime  they  developed  purity 
and  fragrance.  He  was  also  teaching  Amy  to  be  an  expert 
horsewoman,  and  they  promised  themselves  many  a  long  ride 
when  autumn  coolness  should  make  such  exercise  more  agree- 
able. 

Burt  was  a  little  surprised  at  his  tranquil  enjoyment  of  all 
this  companionship,  but  nevertheless  prided  himself  upon  it. 
He  was  not  so  mercurial  and  impetuous  as  the  others  had  be- 
lieved him  to  be,  but  was  capable  of  a  steady  and  undemonstra- 
tive devotion.  Amy  was  worth  winning  at  any  cost,  and  he 
proposed  to  lay  such  a  patient  siege  that  she  could  not  fail  to 
become  his.  Indeed,  with  a  disposition  towards  a  little  retalia- 
tion, he  designed  to  carry  his  patience  so  far  as  to  wait  until  he 
had  seen  more  than  once  an  expression  in  her  eyes  that  invited 
warmer  words  and  manner.  But  he  had  to  admit  that  time 
was  passing,  and  that  no  such  expression  appeared.  This 
piqued  him  a  little,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  not  appreciated. 
The  impression  grew  upon  him  that  she  was  very  young  —  unac- 
countably young  for  one  of  her  years.  She  enjoyed  his  bright 
talk  and  merry  ways  with  much  the  same  spirit  that  Alf 's  boy- 
ish exuberance  called  forth.  She  had  the  natural  love  of  all 
young,  healthful  natures  for  pleasure  and  change,  and  she  un- 
consciously acted  towards  him  as  if  he  were  a  kind,  jolly  brother 
who  was  doing  much  to  give  the  spice  of  variety  to  her  life. 
At  the  same  time  her  unawakened  heart  was  disposed  to  take 
his  view  of  the  future.  Why  should  she  not  marry  him,  after 
her  girlhood  had  passed?  All  the  family  wished  and  expected 
it,  and  surely  she  liked  him  exceedingly.  But  it  would  be  time 
enough  for  such  thoughts  years  hence.  He  had  the  leisure  and 
self-control  for  good-comradeship,  and  without  questioning  she 
enjoyed  it.  Her  life  was  almost  as  free  from  care  as  that  of 
the  young  birds  that  had  begun  their  existence  in  June. 


THE    TWO  LOVERS.  297 

Only  Webb  perplexed  and  troubled  her  a  little.  At  this  sea- 
son, when  even  Leonard  indulged  in  not  a  little  leisure  and 
rest,  he  was  busy  and  pre-oc'cupied.  She  could  not  say  that  he 
avoided  her,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  happen  that  they  were  not 
much  together.  "  I  fear  I'm  too  young  and  girlish  to  be  a 
companion  for  him,"  she  sighed.  "  His  manner  is  just  as  kind 
and  gentle,  but  he  treats  me  as  if  I  were  his  very  little  sister. 
I  don't  seem  to  have  the  power  to  interest  him  that  I  once  had. 
I  wish  I  knew  enough  to  talk  to  him  as  he  would  like  ;  "  and 
she  stealthily  tried  -to  read  some  of  the  scientific  books  that  she 
sayv  him  poring  over. 

He,  poor  fellow,  was  engaged  in  the  most  difficult  task  ever 
given  to  man  —  the  ruling  of  his  own  spirit.  He  saw  her 
sisterly  solicitude  and  good-will,  but  could  not  respond  in  a 
manner  as  natural  as  her  own.  This  was  beyond  human  capa- 
bility. His  best  resource  was  the  comparative  solitude  of  con- 
stant occupation.  He  was  growing  doubtful,  however,  as  to 
the  result  of  his  struggle,  while  Amy  was  daily  becoming  more 
lovely  in  his  eyes.  Her  English  life  had  not  destroyed  the 
native  talent  of  an  American  girl  to  make  herself  attractive. 
She  knew  instinctively  how  to  dress,  how  to  enhance  the 
charms  of  which  nature  had  not  been  chary,  and  Webb's  phi- 
losophy and  science  were  no  defence  against  her  winsomeness. 
In  her  changeful  eyes  lurked  spells  too  mighty  for  him.  Men 
of  his  caste  rarely  succumb  to  a  learned  and  aggressive  woman. 
They  require  intelligence,  but  it  is  a  feminine  intelligence, 
which  supplements  their  own,  and  is  not  akin  to  it.  Webb  saw 
in  Amy  all  that  his  heart  craved,  and  he  believed  that  he  also 
saw  her  fulfilling  Burt's  hopes.  She  seemed  to  be  gradually 
learning  that  the  light-hearted  brother  might  bring  into  her  life 
all  the  sunshine  and  happiness  she  could  desire.  Webb  depre- 
ciated himself,  and  believed  that  he  was  too  grave  and  dull  to 
win  in  any  event  more  than  the  affection  which  she  would  nat- 
urally feel  for  an  elder  brother,  and  this  she  already  bestowed 
upon  him  frankly  and  unstintedly.  Burt  took  the  same  view, 


298  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

and  was  usually  complacency  itself,  although  a  week  seemed  a 
long  time  to  him,  and  he  sometimes  felt  that  he  ought  to  be 
making  more  progress.  But  he  had  no  misgivings.  He  would 
be  faithful  for  years,  and  Amy  could  not  fail  to  reward  such 
constancy. 


HURT'S  ADVENTURE.  299 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

BURT'S    ADVENTURE. 

NOT  only  had  the  little  rustic  cottages  which  had  been 
placed  OH  poles  here  and  there  about  the  Clifford  dwell- 
ing, and  the  empty  tomato-cans  which  Alf,  at  Dr.  Marvin's 
suggestion,  had  fastened  in  the  trees,  been  occupied  by  wrens 
and  bluebirds,  but  larger  homes  had  been  taken  for  the  summer 
by  migrants  from  the  city.  Among  these  was  a  Mr.  Hargrove, 
a  wealthy  gentleman,  who  had  rented  a  pretty  villa  on  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson,  a  mile  or  two  away.  Burt,  with  all  his  proposed 
lifelong  constancy,  had  speedily  discovered  that  Mr.  Hargrove 
had  a  very  pretty  daughter.  Of  course,  he  was  quite  indiffer- 
ent to  the  fact,  but  he  could  no  more  meet  a  girl  like  Gertrude 
Hargrove  and  be  unobservant  than  could  Amy  pass  a  new  and 
rare  wildflower  with  unregarding  eyes.  Miss  Hargrove  was  not 
a  wildflower,  however.  She  was  a  product  of  city  life,  and  was 
perfectly  aware  of  her  unusual  and  exotic  beauty.  Admiring 
eyes  had  followed  her  even  from  childhood,  and  no  one  better 
than  she  knew  her  power.  Her  head  had  been  quite  turned  by 
flattery,  but  there  was  a  saving  clause  in  her  nature  —  her  heart. 
She  was  a  belle,  but  not  a  cold-blooded  coquette.  Admiration 
was  like  sunshine  —  a  matter  of  course.  She  had  always  been 
accustomed  to  it,  as  she  had  been  to  wealth,  and  neither  had 
spoiled  her.  Beneath  all  that  was  artificial,  all  that  fashion 
prescribed  and  society  had  taught,  was  the  essential  woman- 
hood which  alone  can  win  and  retain  a  true  man's  homage. 
For  reasons  just  the  reverse  of  those  which  explained  Amy's 


300  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

indisposition  to  sentiment,  she  also  had  been  kept  fancy-free. 
Seclusion  and  the  companionship  of  her  father,  who  had  been 
an  invalid  in  his  later  years,  had  kept  the  former  a  child  in 
many  respects,  at  a  time  when  Miss  Hargrove  had  her  train  of 
admirers.  Miss  Gertrude  enjoyed  the  train  very  much,  but 
showed  no  disposition  to  permit  any  one  of  its  constituents  to 
monopolize  her.  Indeed,  their  very  numbers  had  been  her 
safety.  Her  attention  had  been  divided  and  distracted  by  a 
score  of  aspirants,  and  while  in  her  girlish  eyes  some  found 
more  favor  than  others,  she  was  inclined  to  laughing  criticism 
of  them  all.  They  amused  her  immensely,  and  she  puzzled 
them.  Her  almost  velvety  black  eyes,  and  the  rich,  varying 
tints  of  her  clear  brunette  complexion,  suggested  a  nature  that 
was  not  cold -and  unresponsive,  yet  many  who  would  gladly  have 
won  the  heiress  for  her  own  sake  found  her  as  elusive  as  only  a 
woman  of  perfect  tact  and  self-possession  can  be.  She  had  no 
vulgar  ambition  to  count  her  victims  who  had  committed  them- 
selves in  words.  With  her  keen  intuition  and  abundant  experi- 
ence she  recognized  the  first  glance  that  was  warmer  than  mere 
friendliness,  and  this  was  all  the  committal  she  wished  for.  She 
loved  the  admiration  of  men,  but  was  too  good-hearted  a  girl 
to  wish  to  make  them  cynics  in  regard  to  women.  She  also  had 
the  sense  to  know  that  it  is  a  miserable  triumph  to  lure  a  man 
to  the  declaration  of  a  supreme  regard,  and  then  in  one  moment 
change  it  into  contempt.  While,  therefore,  she  had  refused 
many  an  offer,  no  one  had  been  humiliated,  no  one  had  been 
made  to  feel  that  he  had  been  unworthily  trifled  with.  Thus 
she  retained  the  respect  and  good-will  of  those  to  whom  she 
might  easily  have  become  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  false 
and  heartless.  She  had  welcomed  the  comparative  seclusion  of 
the  villa  on  the  Hudson,  for,  although  not  yet  twenty,  she  was 
growing  rather  weary  of  society  and  its  exactions.  Its  pleasures 
had  been  tasted  too  often,  its  burdens  were  beginning  to  be 
felt.  She  was  a  good  horsewoman,  and  was  learning,  under  the 
instruction  of  a  younger  brother,  to  row  as  easily  and  gracefully 


BURT'S  ADVENTURE.  301 

on  the  river  as  she  danced  in  the  ball-room,  and  she  found  the 
former  recreation  more  satisfactory,  from  its  very  novelty. 

Burt  was  well  aware  of  these  out-door  accomplishments. 
Any  one  inclined  to  rural  pleasures  won  his  attention  at  once ; 
and  Miss  Hargrove,  as  she  occasionally  trotted  smartly  by  him, 
or  skimmed  near  on  the  waters  of  the  Hudson,  was  a  figure 
sure  to  win  from  his  eyes  more  than  a  careless  glance.  Thus 
far,  as  has  been  intimated,  he  had  kept  aloof,  but  he  had 
observed  her  critically,  and  he  found  little  to  disapprove.  She 
also  was  observing  him,  and  was  quite  as  well  endowed  as  he 
with  the  power  of  forming  a  correct  judgment.  Men  of  almost 
every  description  had  sought  her  smiles,  but  he  did  not  surfer 
by  comparison.  His  tall,  lithe  figure  was  instinct  with  manly 
grace.  There  was  a  fascinating  trace  of  reckless  boldness  in 
his  blue  eyes.  He  rode  like  a  centaur,  and  at  will  made  his 
light  boat,  in  which  Amy  was  usually  seated,  cut  through  the 
water  with  spray  flying  from  its  prow.  In  Miss  Hargrove's 
present  mood  for  rural  life  she.  wished  for  his  acquaintance,  and 
was  a  little  piqued  that  he  had  not  sought  hers,  since  her  father 
had  opened  the  way. 

Mr.  Hargrove,  soon  after  his  arrival  in  the  neighborhood,  had 
had  business  transactions  with  the  Cliffords,  and  had  learned 
enough  about  them  to  awaken  a  desire  for  social  relations,  and 
he  had  courteously  expressed  his  wishes.  Maggie  and  Amy  had 
fully  intended  compliance,  but  the  harvest  had  come,  time  had 
passed,  and  the  initial  call  had  not  been  made.  Leonard  was 
averse  to  such  formalities,  and,  for  reasons  already  explained, 
Burt  and  Webb  were  in  no  mood  for  them.  They  would  not 
have  failed  in  neighborliness  much  longer,  however,  and  a  call 
was  proposed  for  the  first  comparatively  cool  day.  A  little  in- 
cident now  occurred  which  quite  broke  the  ice,  and  also  some- 
what disturbed  Burt's  serenity.  Amy  was  not  feeling  very  well, 
and  he  had  gone  out  alone  for  a  ride  on  his  superb  black  horse 
Thunder.  In  a  shady  road  some  miles  away,  where  the  willows 
interlaced  their  branches  overhead  in  a  long,  Gothic-like  arch, 


302  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

he  saw  Miss  Hargrove,  mounted  also,  coming  slowly  towards 
him.  He  never  forgot  the  picture  she  made  under  the  rustic 
archway.  Her  fine  horse  was  pacing  along  with  a  stately  tread, 
his  neck  curved  under  the  restraining  bit,  while  she  was  evi- 
dently amusing  herself  by  talking,  for  the  want  of  a  better  com- 
panion, to  an  immense  Newfoundland  dog  that  was  trotting  at 
her  side,  and  looking  up  to  her  in  intelligent  appreciation. 
Thus,  in  her  pre-occupation,  Burt  was  permitted  to  draw  com- 
paratively near,  but  as  soon  as  she  observed  him  it  was  evidently 
her  intention  to  pass  rapidly.  As  she  gave  her  horse  the  rein 
and  he  leaped  forward,  she  clutched  his  mane,  and  by  a  word 
brought  him  to  a  standstill.  Burt  saw  the  trouble  at  once,  for 
the  girth  of  her  saddle  had  broken,  and  hung  loosely  down. 
Only  by  prompt  action  and  good  horsemanship  had  she  kept 
her  seat.  Now  she  was  quite  helpless,  for  an  attempt  to  dis- 
mount would  cause  the  heavy  saddle  to  turn,  with  unknown  and 
awkward  results.  She  had  recognized  Burt,  and  knew  that  he 
was  a  gentleman ;  therefore  she  patted  her  horse  and  quieted 
him,  while  the  young  man  came  promptly  to  her  assistance. 
He,  secretly  exulting  over  the  promise  of  an  adventure,  said, 
suavely,  as  he  lifted  his  hat, 

"  Miss  Hargrove,  will  you  permit  me  to  aid  you?" 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied,  smiling  so  pleasantly  that  the  words 
did  not  seem  ungracious  ;  "  I  have  no  other  resource." 

He  bowed,  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  fastened  his 
horse  by  the  roadside  ;  then  came  forward  without  the  least 
embarrassment.  "  Your  saddle-girth  has  broken,"  he  said.  "  I 
fear  you  must  dismount.  Shall  I  lift  you  off  ?  You  maintained 
your  seat  admirably,  but  a  very  slight  movement  on  your  part 
will  cause  the  saddle  to  turn." 

"  I  know  that,"  she  replied,  laughing.  "  Helplessness  is  al- 
ways awkward.  I  am  only  anxious  to  reach  ground  in  safety ;  " 
and  she  dropped  the  reins,  and  held  out  her  hands. 

"Your  horse  is  too  high  for  you  to  dismount  in  that  way,"  he 
said,  quietly,  "  and  the  saddle  might  fall  after  you  and  hurt  you. 


BURT'S  ADVENTURE. 


303 


Pardon  me  ;  "   and  he  encircled  her  with  his  right  arm,  and 
lifted  her  gently  off. 

She  blushed  like  the  western  sky,  but  he  was  so  grave  and 
apparently  solicitous,  and  his  words  had  made  his  course  seem 
so  essential,  that  she  could  not  take  offence.  Indeed,  he  was 


"HE   NEVER   FORGOT  THE    PICTURE   SHE    MADE   UNDER   THE    RUSTIC 
ARCHWAY." 

now  giving  his  whole  attention  to  the  broken  girth,  and  she 
could  only  await  the  result  of  his  examination. 

"  I  think  I  can  mend  it  with  a  strap  from  my  bridle  so  that 
it  will  hold  until  you  reach  home,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  I  cannot  make  it  very  secure.  Will  you  hold  your 
horse  a  moment?" 

"  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Clifford,  I  think,"  she  began,  hesitatingly. 


304  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Clifford,  and,  believe  me,  I  am  wholly  at  your 
service.  If  you  had  not  been  so  good  a  horsewoman  you  might 
have  met  with  a  very  serious  accident." 

"  More  thanks  are  due  to  you,  I  imagine,"  she  replied ; 
"  though  I  suppose  I  could  have  got  off  in  some  way." 

"There  would  have  been  no  trouble  in  your  getting  off,"  he 
said,  with  one  of  his  frank,  contagious  smiles ;  "  but  then  your 
horse  might  have  run  away,  or  you  would  have  had  to  lead  him 
some  distance,  at  least.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that  the  girth  gave 
way  when  it  did,  for  it  would  have  broken  in  a  few  moments 
more,  in  any  event.  Therefore  I  hope  you  will  tolerate  one 
not  wholly  unknown  to  you,  and  permit  me  to  be  of  service." 

"  Indeed,  I  have  only  cause  for  thanks.  I  have  interfered 
with  your  ride,  and  am  putting  you  to  trouble." 

"  I  was  only  riding  for  pleasure,  and  as  yet  you  have  had  all 
the  trouble." 

She  did  not  look  excessively  annoyed,  and  in  truth  was  en- 
joying the  adventure  quite  as  much  as  he  was,  but  she  only  said  : 
"  You  have  the  finest  horse  there  I  ever  saw.  How  I  should 
like  to  ride  him  !  " 

"  I  fear  he  would  be  ungallant.  He  has  never  been  ridden 
by  a  lady." 

"  I  should  not  be  afraid  so  long  as  the  saddle  remained  firm. 
What  do  you  call  him?" 

"  Thunder."  At  the  sound  of  his  name  the  beautiful  ani- 
mal arched  his  neck  and  whinnied.  "  There,  be  quiet,  old 
fellow,  and  speak  when  you  are  spoken  to,"  Burt  said.  "  He  is 
comparatively  gentle  with  me,  but  uncontrollable  by  others.  I 
have  now  done  my  best,  Miss  Hargrove,  and  I  think  you  may 
mount  in  safety,  if  you  are  willing  to  walk  your  horse  quietly 
home.  But  I  truly  think  I  ought  to  accompany  you,  and  I  will 
do  so  gladly,  with  your  permission." 

"  But  it  seems  asking  a  g'reat  deal  of — 

"  Of  a  stranger?  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  bring  about  a  formal 
introduction.  I  have  met  your  father.  Will  you  not  in  the 


HURT'S  ADVENTURE.  305 

emergency  defer  the  introduction  until  we  arrive  at  your 
home?" 

"  I  think  we  may  as  well  dispense  with  it  altogether,"  she 
said,  laughing.  "  It  would  be  too  hollow  a  formality  after  the 
hour  we  must  spend  together,  since  you  think  so  slow  a  pace  is 
essential  to  safety.  Events,  not  we,  are  to  blame  for  all  failures 
in  etiquette." 

"  I  was  coming  to  call  upon  you  this  very  week  with  the 
ladies  of  our  house,"  he  began. 

"  Indeed  ! "  she  said,  lifting  her  eyebrows. 

"  I  assure  you  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say,"  he  continued, 
earnestly,  turning  his  handsome  eyes  to  hers.  Then  throwing 
his  head  back  a  little  proudly,  he  added,  "  Miss  Hargrove,  you 
must  know  that  we  are  farmers,  and  midsummer  brings  the 
harvest  and  unwonted  labors." 

With  a  slight,  piquant  imitation  of  his  manner,  she  said : 
"  My  father,  you  must  know,  Mr.  Clifford,  is  a  merchant.  Is 
not  that  an  equally  respectable  calling?" 

"  Some  people  regard  it  as  far  more  so." 

"  Some  people  are  very  silly.  There  is  no  higher  rank  than 
that  of  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Clifford." 

He  took  off  his  hat,  and  said,  laughingly  :  "  I  hope  it  is  not 
presumption  to  imagine  a  slight  personal  bearing  in  your  re- 
mark. At  least,  let  me  prove  that  I  have  some  claim  to  the 
title  by  seeing  you  safely  home.  Will  you  mount?  Put  your 
foot  in  my  hand,  and  bear  your  whole  weight  upon  it,  and  none 
upon  the  saddle." 

"  You  don't  know  how  heavy  I  am." 

"  No,  but  I  know  I  can  lift  you.     Try." 

Without  the  least  effort  she  found  herself  in  the  saddle. 
"  How  strong  you  are  !  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  laughing ;  "  I  developed  my  muscle,  if 
not  my  brains,  at  college." 

In  a  moment  he  vaulted  lightly  upon  his  horse,  that  reared 
proudly,  but,  at  a  word  from  his  master,  arched  his  neck  and 


3  06  NA  TURK  "S.  SERIA  L   STOR\ '. 

paced  as  quietly  as  Miss  Hargrove's  better-trained  animal. 
Burt's  laugh  would  have  thawed  Mrs.  Grundy's  very  self.  He 
was  so  vital  with  youth  and  vigor,  and  his  flow  of  spirits  so 
irresistible,  that  Miss  Hargrove  found  her  own  nerves  tingling 
with  pleasure.  The  episode  was  novel,  unexpected,  and  prom- 
ised so  much  for  the  future,  that  in  her  delightful  excitement 
she  cast  conventionality  to  the  winds,  and  yielded  to  his  sport- 
ive mood.  They  had  not  gone  a  mile  together  before  one 
would  have  thought  they  had  been  acquainted  for  years.  Burt's 
frank  face  was  like  the  open  page  of  a  book,  and  the  experi- 
enced society  girl  saw  nothing  in  it  but  abounding  good-nature, 
and  an  enjoyment  as  genuine  as  her  own.  She  was  on  the  alert 
for  traces  of  provincialism  and  rusticity,  but  vvas  agreeably  dis- 
appointed at  their  absence.  He  certainly  was  unmarked,  and, 
to  her  taste,  unmarred,  by  the  artificial  mode  of  the  day,  but 
there  was  nothing  under-bred  in  his  manner  or  language.  He 
rather  fulfilled  her  ideal  of  the  light-hearted  student  who  had 
brought  away  the  air  of  the  university  without  being  oppressed 
by  its  learning.  She  saw,  with  a  curious  little  blending  of  pique 
and  pleasure,  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  her,  and 
that,  while  claiming  to  be  simply  a  farmer,  he  unconsciously 
asserted  by  every  word  and  glance  that  he  was  her  equal.  She 
had  the  penetration  to  recognize  from  the  start  that  she  could 
not  patronize  him  in  the  slightest  degree,  that  he  was  as  high- 
spirited  as  he  was  frank  and  easy  in  manner,  and  she  could  well 
imagine  that  his  mirthful  eyes  would  flash  with  anger  on  slight 
provocation.  She  had  never  met  just  such  a  type  before,  and 
every  moment  found  her  more  and  more  interested  and 
amused. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  his  sensations  kept  pace  with  hers. 
Many  had  found  Miss  Hargrove's  eyes  singularly  effective  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  but  now  her  mood  gave  them  an  un- 
wonted lustre  and  power.  Her  color  was  high,  her  talk  ani- 
mated and  piquant.  Even  an  enemy,  had  she  had  one,  would 
have  been  forced  to  admit  that  she  was  dazzlingly  beautiful,  and 


BURTS  ADVENTURE.  307 

inflammable  Burt  could  not  be  indifferent  to  her  charms.  He 
knew  that  he  was  not,  but  complacently  assured  himself  that  he 
was  a  good  judge  in  such  matters. 

Mr.  Hargrove  met  them  at  the  door,  and  his  daughter  laugh- 
ingly told  him  of  her  mishap.  She  evidently  reposed  in  him 
the  utmost  confidence.  He  justified  it  by  meeting  her  in  like 
spirit  with  her  own,  and  he  interpreted  her  unspoken  wishes  by 
so  cordially  pressing  Burt  to  remain  to  dinner  that  he  was  almost 
constrained  to  yield.  "  You  will  be  too  late  for  your  own  even- 
ing meal,"  he  said,  "  and  your  kindness  to  my  daughter  would 
be  ill-requited,  and  our  reputation  for  hospitality  would  suffer, 
should  we  let  you  depart  without  taking  salt  with  us.  After 
all,  Mr.  Clifford,  we  are  neighbors.  Why  should  there  be  any 
formality?" 

Burt  was  the  last  one  to  have  any  scruples  on  such  grounds, 
and  he  resolved  to  have  his  "  lark  "  out,  as  he  mentally  charac- 
terized it.  Mr.  Hargrove  had  been  something  of  a  sportsman 
in  his  earlier  days,  afld  the  young  fellow's  talk  was  as  interest- 
ing to  him  as  it  had  been  to  Miss  Gertrude.  Fred,  her  younger 
brother,  was  quite  captivated,  and  elegant  Mrs.  Hargrove,  like 
her  daughter,  watched  in  vain  for  mannerisms  to  criticise  in  the 
breezy  youth.  The  evening  was  half  gone  before  Burt  galloped 
homeward,  smiling  broadly  to  himself  at  the  adventure. 

His  absence  had  caused  little  remark  in  the  family.  It  had 
been  taken  for  granted  that  he  was  at  Dr.  Marvin's  or  the  par- 
sonage, for  the,  young  fellow  was  a  great  favorite  with  their  pastor. 
When  he  entered  the  sitting-room,  however,  there  was  a  sup- 
pressed excitement  in  his  manner  which  suggested  an  unusual 
experience.  He  was  not  slow  in  relating  all  that  had  happened, 
for  the  thought  had  occurred  to  him  that  it  might  be  good 
policy  to  awaken  a  little  jealousy  in  Amy.  In  this  effort  he  was 
obliged  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  failed  signally.  Even 
Webb's  searching  eyes  could  not  detect  a  trace  of  chagrin. 
She  only  seemed  very  much  amused,  and  was  laughingly  pro- 
fuse in  her  congratulations  to  Burt.  Moreover,  she  was  genu- 


308  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

inely  interested  in  Miss  Hargrove,  and  eager  to  make  her 
acquaintance.  "  If  she  is  as  nice  as  you  say,  Burt,"  she  con- 
cluded, "  she  would  make  a  pleasant  addition  to  our  little  ex- 
cursions and  pleasure  parties.  Perhaps  she's  old  and  bright 
enough  to  talk  to  Webb,  and  draw  him  out  of  his  learned  pre- 
occupation," she  added,  with  a  shy  glance  towards  the  one  who 
was  growing  too  remote  from  her  daily  life. 

Even  his  bronzed  face  flushed,  but  he  said,  with  a  laugh  : 
"  She  is  evidently  much  too  bright  for  me,  and  would  soon  re- 
gard me  as  insufferably  stupid.  I  have  never  found  much  favor 
with  city  dames,  or  with  dames  of  any  description,  for  that 
matter." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  the  dames,  then,"  she  replied,  with 
a  piquant  nod  at  him. 

"  Little  sisters  are  apt  to  be  partial  judges  —  at  least,  one  is," 
he  said,  smilingly,  as  he  left  the  room.  He  walked  out  in  the 
moonlight,  thinking  :  "  There  was  not  a  trace  of  jealousy  in  her 
face.  Well,  why  should  there  be?  Burt's  perfect  frankness 
was  enough  to  prevent  anything  of  the  kind.  If  there  had 
been  cause  for  jealousy,  he  would  have  been  reticent.  Besides, 
Amy  is  too  high-toned  to  yield  readily  to  this  vice,  and  Burt 
can  never  be  such  an  idiot  as  to  endanger  his  prospects." 

A  scheme,  however,  was  maturing  in  Burt's  busy  brain  that 
night,  which  he  thought  would  be  a  master-stroke  of  policy. 
He  was  quite  aware  of  the  good  impression  that  he  had  made 
on  Miss  Hargrove,  and  he  determined  that  Amy's  wishes  should 
be  carried  out  in  a  sufficient  degree  at  least  to  prove  to  her  that 
a  city  belle  would  not  be  wholly  indifferent  to  his  attentions. 
"  I'll  teach  the  coy  little  beauty  that  others  are  not  so  blind  as 
she  is,  and  I  imagine  that,  with  Miss  Hargrove's  aid,  I  can  dis- 
turb her  serenity  a  little  before  many  weeks  pass." 


MISS  HARGROVE.  309 


CHAPTER  XL. 

MISS   HARGROVE. 

BUT  a  few  days  elapsed  before  Mr.  Clifford,  with  Burt, 
Maggie,  and  Amy,  made  the  call  which  would  naturally 
inaugurate  an  exchange  of  social  visits.  Mr.  Hargrove  was 
especially  interested  in  the  old  gentleman,  and  they  were  at 
once  deep  in  rural  affairs.  Maggie  was  a  little  reserved  at  first 
with  Mrs.  Hargrove,  but  the  latter,  with  all  her  stateliness,  was 
a  zealous  housekeeper,  and  so  the  two  ladies  were  soon  en 
rapport. 

The  young  people  adjourned  to  the  piazza,  and  their  merry 
laughter  and  animated  talk  proved  that  if  there  had  been  any 
constraint  it  was  vanishing  rapidly.  Amy  was  naturally  a  little 
shy  at  first,  but  Miss  Hargrove  had  the  tact  to  put  her  guests 
immediately  at  ease.  She  proposed  to  have  a  good  time  during 
the  remainder  of  the  summer,  and  saw  in  Burt  a  means  to  that 
end,  while  she  instinctively  felt  that  she  must  propitiate  Amy  in 
order  to  accomplish  her  purpose.  Therefore  she  was  disposed 
to  pay  a  little  court  to  her  on  general  principles.  She  had 
learned  that  the  young  girl  was  a  ward  of  Mr.  Clifford's.  What 
Burt  was  to  Amy  she  did  not  know,  but  was  sure  she  could  soon 
find  out,  and  his  manner  had  led  to  the  belief  that  he  was  not 
a  committed  and  acknowledged  lover.  She  made  no  discov- 
eries, however,  for  he  was  not  one  to  display  a  real  preference 
in  public,  and  indeed,  in  accordance  with  his  scheme,  she  re- 
ceived his  most  marked  attentions.  Amy  also  both  baffled  and 
interested  her.  She  could  not  immediately  accept  of  this  genu- 


310  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

ine  child  of  nature,  whose  very  simplicity  was  puzzling.  It  might 
be  the  perfection  of  well-bred  reserve,  such  complete  art  as  to 
appear  artless.  Miss  Margrove  had  been  in  society  too  long 
to  take  anything  impulsively  on  trust.  Still,  she  was  charmed 
with  the  young  girl,  and  Amy  was  also  genuinely  pleased  with 
her  new  acquaintance.  Before  they  parted  a  horseback  ride 
was  arranged,  at  Burt's  suggestion,  for  the  next  afternoon. 
This  was  followed  by  visits  that  soon  lost  all  formality,  boating 
on  the  river,  other  rides,  drives,  and  excursions  to  points  of  in- 
terest throughout  the  region.  Webb  was  occasionally  led  to 
participate  in  these,  but  he  usually  had  some  excuse  for  remain- 
ing at  home.  He,  also,  was  a  new  type  to  Miss  Hargrove,  "  in- 
digenous to  the  soil,"  she  smilingly  said  to  herself,  "  and  a  fine 
growth  too.  With  his  grave  face  and  ways  he  makes  a  splendid 
contrast  to  his  brother."  She  found  him  too  reticent  for  good- 
fellowship,  and  he  gave  her  the  impression  also  that  he  knew 
too  much  about  that  which  was  remote  from  her  life  and  inter- 
ests. At  the  same  time,  with  her  riper  experience,  she  speedily 
divined  his  secret,  to  which  Amy  was  blind.  "  He  could  almost 
say  his  prayers  to  Amy,"  she  thought,  as  she  returned  after  an 
evening  spent  at  the  Cliffords',  "  and  she  doesn't  know  it." 

With  all  his  frankness,  Burt's  relations  to  Amy  still  baffled 
her.  She  sometimes  thought  she  saw  his  eyes  following  the 
young  girl  with  lover-like  fondness,  and  she  also  thought  that 
he  was  a  little  more  pronounced  in  his  attentions  to  her  in 
Amy's  absence.  Acquaintanceship  ripened  into  intimacy  as 
plants  matured  under  the  waning  suns  of  July,  and  the  girls 
often  spent  the  night  together.  Amy  was  soon  beguiled  into 
giving  her  brief,  simple  history,  omitting,  of  course,  all  reference 
to  Burr/s  passionate  declaration  and  his  subsequent  expectations. 
As  far  as  she  herself  was  concerned,  she  had  no  experiences  of 
this  character  to  relate,  and  her  nature  was  much  too  fine  to 
gossip  about  Burt.  Miss  Hargrove  soon  accepted  Amy's  per- 
fect simplicity  as  a  charming  fact,  and  while  the  young  girl  had 
all  the  refinement  and  intelligence  of  her  city  friend,  the  absence 


MISS  HARGROVE.  311 

of  certain  phases  of  experience  made  her  companionship  all 
the  more  fascinating  and  refreshing.  It  was  seen  that  she  had 
grown  thus  far  in  secluded  and  sheltered  nooks,  and  the  igno- 
rance that  resulted  was  like  morning  dew  upon  a  flower.  Of 
one  thing  her  friend  thought  herself  assured  —  Burt  had  never 
touched  Amy's  heart,  and  she  was  as  unconscious  of  herself  as 
of  Webb's  well-hidden  devotion.  The  Clifford  family  interested 
Miss  Gertrude  exceedingly,  and  her  innate  goodness  of  heart 
was  proved  by  the  fact  that  she  soon  became  a  favorite  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford.  She  never  came  to  the  house  without 
bringing  flowers  to  the  latter  —  not  only  beautiful  exotics  from 
the  florists,  but  wreaths  of  clematis,  bunches  of  meadow-rue 
from  her  rambles,  and  water-lilies  and  cardinal-flowers  from 
boating  excursions  up  the  Moodna  Creek  —  and  the  secluded 
invalid  enjoyed  her  brilliant  beauty  and  piquant  ways  as  if  she 
had  been  a  rare  flower  herself. 

Burt  had  entered  on  his  scheme  with  the  deepest  interest 
and  with  confident  expectations.  As  time  passed,  however,  he 
found  that  he  could  not  pique  Amy  in  the  slightest  degree  ; 
that  she  rather  regarded  his  interest  in  Miss  Hargrove  as  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  because  she  was  so  interesting. 
Therefore  he  at  last  just  let  himself  drift,  and  was  content  with 
the  fact  that  the  summer  was  passing  delightfully.  That  Miss 
Hargrove's  dark  eyes  sometimes  quickened  his  pulse  strangely 
did  not  trouble  him  ;  it  had  often  been  quickened  before.  When 
they  were  alone,  and  she  sang  to  him  in  her  rich  contralto,  and 
he,  at  her  request,  added  his  musical  tenor,  it  seemed  perfectly 
natural  that  he  should  bend  over  her  towards  the  notes  in  a 
way  that  was  not  the  result  of  near-sightedness.  Burt  was 
amenable  to  other  attractions  than  that  of  gravitation. 

Webb  was  the  only  one  not  blind  to  the  drift  of  events. 
While  he  forbore  by  word  or  sign  to  interfere,  he  felt  that  new 
elements  were  entering  into  the  problem  of  the  future.  He 
drove  the  farm  and  garden  work  along  with  a  tireless  energy 
against  which  even  Leonard  remonstrated.  But  Webb  knew 


312  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

that  his  most  wholesome  antidote  for  suspense  and  trouble  was 
work,  and  good  for  all  would  come  of  his  remedy.  He  toiled 
long  hours  in  the  oat  harvest.  He  sowed  seed  which  promised 
a  thousand  bushels  of  turnips.  Land  foul  with  weeds,  or  only 
half  subdued,  he  sowed  with  that  best  of  scavenger  crops,  buck- 
wheat, which  was  to  be  ploughed  under  as  soon  as  in  blossom. 
The  vegetable  and  fruit  gardens  gave  him  much  occupation, 
also,  and  the  table  fairly  groaned  under  the  over-abundant  sup- 
ply, while  Abram  was  almost  daily  despatched  to  the  landing  or 
to  neighboring  markets  with  loads  of  various  produce.  The 
rose  garden,  however,  seemed  to  afford  Webb  his  chief  recrea- 
tion and  a  place  of  rest,  and  the  roses  in  Amy's  belt  were  the 
wonder  and  envy  of  all  who  saw  them.  His  mother  sometimes 
looked  at  him  curiously,  as  he  still  brought  to  her  the  finest 
specimens,  and  one  day  she  said  :  "  Webb,  I  never  knew  even 
you  to  be  so  tireless  before.  You  are  growing  very  thin,  and 
you  are  certainly  going  beyond  your  strength,  and  —  forgive 
me  —  you  seem  restlessly  active.  Have  you  any  trouble  in 
which  mother  can  help  you?  " 

"  You  always  help  me,  mother,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  but  I  have 
no  trouble  that  requires  your  or  any  one's  attention.  I  like  to 
be  busy,  and  there  is  much  to  do.  I  am  getting  the  work  well 
along,  so  that  I  can  take  a  trip  in  August,  and  not  leave  too 
much  for  Leonard  to  look  after." 

August  came,  and  with  it  the  promise  of  drought,  but  he  and 
his  elder  brother  had  provided  against  it.  The  young  trees  had 
been  well  mulched  while  the  ground  was  moist,  and  deep, 
thorough  cultivation  rendered  the  crops  safe  unless  the  rainless 
period  should  be  of  long  duration. 

Already  in  the  rustling  foliage  there  were  whisperings  of 
autumn.  The  nights  grew  longer,  and  were  filled  with  the 
sounds  of  insect  life.  The  robins  disappeared  from  about  the 
house,  and  were  haunting  distant  groves,  becoming  as  wild  as 
they  had  formerly  been  domestic.  The  season  of  bird  song 
was  over  for  the  year.  The  orioles  whistled  in  a  languid  and 


MISS  HARGROVE.  313 

desultory  way  occasionally,  and  the  smaller  warblers  sometimes 
gave  utterance  to  defective  strains,  but  the  leaders  of  the 
feathered  chorus,  the  thrushes,  were  silent.  The  flower-beds 
flamed  with  geraniums  and  salvias,  and  were  gay  with  gladioli, 
while  Amy  and  Mrs.  Clifford  exulted  in  the  extent  and  variety 
of  their  finely  quilled  and  rose-like  asters  and  dahlias.  The 
foliage  of  the  trees  had  gained  its  darkest  hues,  and  the  days 
passed,  one  so  like  another  that  nature  seemed  to  be  taking  a 
summer  siesta. 


314  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A    FIRE    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS. 

\  DAY  in  August  can  be  as  depressing  as  a  typical  one  in 
jfjL  May  is  inspiring,  or  in  June  entrancing.  As  the  season 
advanced  Nature  appeared  to  be  growing  languid  and  faint. 
There  was  neither  cloud  by  day  nor  dew  at  night.  The  sun 
burned  rather  than  vivified  the  earth,  and  the  grass  and  herbage 
withered  and  shrivelled  before  its  unobstructed  rays.  The  foli- 
age along  the  roadsides  grew  dun-colored  from  the  dust,  and 
those  who  rode  or  drove  on  thoroughfares  were  stifled  by  the 
irritating  clouds  that  rose  on  the  slightest  provocation.  Pleas- 
ure could  be  found  only  on  the  unfrequented  lanes  that  led  to 
the  mountains  or  ran  along  their  bases.  Even  there  trees  that 
drew  their  sustenance  from  soil  spread  thinly  on  the  rocks  were 
seen  to  be  dying,  their  leaves  not  flushing  with  autumnal  tints, 
but  hanging  limp  and  bleached,  as  if  they  had  exhaled  their 
vital  juices.  The  moss  beneath  them,  that  had  been  softer  to 
the  tread  than  a  Persian  rug,  crurnbled  into  powder  under  the 
foot.  Alf  went  to  gather  huckleberries,  but,  except  in  mo\st 
and  swampy  places,  found  them  shrivelled  on  the  bushes. 
Even  the  corn  leaves  began  to  roll  on  the  uplands,  and  Leon- 
ard shook  his  head  despondingly.  Webb's  anxieties,  however, 
were  of  a  far  deeper  character,  and  he  was  philosophical  enough 
to  average  the  year's  income.  If  the  cows  did  come  home 
hungry  from  their  pasture,  there  was  abundance  of  hay  and 
green-corn  fodder  to  carry  them  through  until  the  skies  should 
become  more  propitious.  Besides,  there  was  an  unfailing 


A   FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  315 

spring  upon  the  place,  and  from  this  a  large  cask  on  wheels 
was  often  filled,  and  was  then  drawn  by  one  of  the  quiet  farm- 
horses  to  the  best  of  the  flower  beds,  the  young  trees,  and  to 
such  products  of  the  garden  as  would  repay  for  the  expenditure 
of  time  and  labor.  The  ground  was  never  sprinkled  so  that  the 
morning  sun  of  the  following  day  would  drink  up  the  moisture, 
but  so  deluged  that  the  watering  would  answer  for  several  days. 
It  was  well  known  that  partial  watering  does  only  harm.  Nature 
can  be  greatly  assisted  at  such  times,  but  it  must  be  in  accord- 
ance with  her  laws.  The  grapevine  is  a  plant  that  can  endure 
an  unusual  degree  of  drought,  and  the  fruit  will  be  all  the 
earlier  and  sweeter  for  it.  An  excellent  fertilizer  for  the  grape 
is  suds  from  the  laundry,  and  by  filling  a  wide,  shallow  basin, 
hollowed  out  from  the  earth  around  the  stems,  with  this  alkaline 
infusion,  the  vines  were  kept  in  the  best  condition.  The  clus- 
ters of  the  earlier  varieties  were  already  beginning  to  color,  and 
the  season  insured  the  perfect  ripening  of  those  fine  old  kinds, 
the  Isabella  and  Catawba,  that  too  often  are  frost-bitten  before 
they  become  fit  for  the  table. 

Thus  it  would  appear  that  Nature  has  compensations  for  her 
worst  moods  —  greater  compensations  than  are  thought  of  by 
many.  Drought  causes  the  roots  of  plants  and  trees  to  strike 
deep,  and  so  extends  the  range  of  their  feeding-ground,  and 
anchors  vegetation  of  all  kinds  more  firmly  in  the  soil. 

Nevertheless,  a  long  dry  period  is  always  depressing.  The 
bright  green  fades  out  of  the  landscape,  the  lawns  and  grass- 
plots  become  brown  and  sear,  the  air  loses  its  sweet,  refreshing 
vitality,  and  is  often  so  charged  with  smoke  from  forest-fires, 
and  impalpable  dust,  that  respiration  is  not  agreeable.  Apart 
from  considerations  of  profit  and  loss,  the  sympathy  of  the 
Clifford  household  was  too  deep  with  Nature  to  permit  the  in- 
difference of  those  whose  garden  is  the  market  stall  and  the 
florist's  greenhouse,  and  to  whom  vistas  in  hotel  parlors  and 
piazzas  are  the  most  attractive. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  Leonard  remarked  at  the  dinner-table  one 


316  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

day,  "  that  droughts  are  steadily  growing  more  serious  and  fre- 
quent." 

"  They  are,"  replied  his  father.  "  While  I  remember  a  few 
in  early  life  that  were  more  prolonged  than  any  we  have  had  of 
late  years,  they  must  have  resulted  from  exceptional  causes,  for 
we  usually  had  an  abundance  of  rain,  and  did  not  suffer  as  we 
do  now  from  violent  alternations  of  weather.  There  was  one 
year  when  there  was  scarcely  a  drop  of  rain  throughout  the 
summer.  Potatoes  planted  in  the  late  spring  were  found  in  the 
autumn  dry  and  unsprouted.  But  such  seasons  were  exceed- 
ingly rare,  and  now  droughts  are  the  rule." 

"  And  the  people  are  chiefly  to  blame  for  them,"  said  Webb. 
"  We  are  suffering  from  the  law  of  heredity.  Our  forefathers 
were  compelled  to  fell  the  trees  to  make  room  for  the  plough, 
and  now  one  of  the  strongest  impulses  of  the  average  American 
is  to  cut  down  a  tree.  Our  forests,  on  which  a  moist  climate 
so  largely  depends,  are  treated  as  if  they  encumbered  the 
ground.  The  smoke  that  we  are  breathing  proves  that  fires  are 
ravaging  to  the  north  and  west  of  us.  They  should  be  per- 
mitted no  more  than  a  fire  in  the  heart  of  a  city.  The  future 
of  the  country  depends  upon  the  people  becoming  sane  on  this 
subject.  If  we  will  send  to  the  Legislature  pot-house  politicians 
who  are  chiefly  interested  in  keeping  up  a  supply  of  liquor  in- 
stead of  water,  they  should  be  provided  with  a  little  primer  giv- 
ing the  condition  of  lands  denuded  of  their  forests.  There  is 
scarcely  anything  in  their  shifty  ways,  their  blind  zeal  for  what 
the  '  deestrict '  wants  to-day,  regardless  of  coming  days,  that 
so  irritates  me  as  their  stupidity  on  this  subject.  A-  man  who 
votes  against  the  protection  of  our  forests  is  not  fit  for  the  office 
of  road-master.  After  all,  the  people  are  to  blame,  and  their 
children  will  pay  dear  for  their  ignorance  and  the  spirit  which 
finds  expression  in  the  saying,  '  After  me  the  deluge ; '  and 
there  will  be  flood  and  drought  until  every  foot  of  land  not 
adapted  to  cultivation  and  pasturage  is  again  covered  with  trees. 
Indeed,  a  great  deal  of  good  land  should  be  given  up  to  forests, 


A   FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  317 

for  then  what  was  cultivated  would  produce  far  more  than  could 
be  obtained  from  a  treeless  and  therefore  rainless  country." 

"Bravo,  Webb!"  cried  Burt;  "we  must  send  you  to  the 
Legislature." 

"  How  is  the  evil  to  be  prevented?  "  Leonard  asked. 


A   PASTORAL.  , 

"  Primarily  by  instruction  and  the  formation  of  public  opin- 
ion. The  influence  of  trees  on  the  climate  should  be  taught  in 
all  our  schools  as  thoroughly  as  the  multiplication-table.  The 
national  and  state  governments  would  then  be  compelled  to  look 
beyond  the  next  election,  and  to  appoint  foresters  who  would 


3l8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

have  the  same  power  to  call  out  the  people  to  extinguish  a  for- 
est fire  that  the  sheriff  has  to  collect  his  posse  to  put  down  mob 
violence.  In  the  long-run  fire  departments  in  our  forest  tracts 
would  be  more  useful  than  the  same  in  cities,  for,  after  all,  cities 
depend  upon  the  country  and  its  productiveness.  The  owners 
of  woodland  should  be  taught  the  folly  of  cutting  everything  be- 
fore them,  and  of  leaving  the  refuse  brush  to  become  like  tin- 
der. The  smaller  growth  should  be  left  to  mature,  and  the 
brush  piled  and  burned  in  a  way  that  would  not  involve  the 
destruction  of  every  sprout  and  sapling  over  wide  areas.  As  it 
is,- we  are  at  the  mercy  of  every  careless  boy,  and  such  vagrants 
as  Lumley  used  to  be  before  Amy  woke  him  up.  It  is  said  — 
and  with  truth  at  times,  I  fear  —  that  the  shiftless  mountaineers 
occasionally  start  the  fires,  for  a  fire  means  brief -high-priced 
labor  for  them,  and  afterwards  an  abundance  of  whiskey." 

Events  furnished  a  practical  commentary  on  Webb's  words. 
Miss  Hargrove  had  come  over  to  spend  the  night  with  Amy, 
and  to  try  some  fine  old  English  glees  that  she  had  obtained 
from  her  city  home.  They  had  just  adjourned  from  the  supper- 
table  to  the  piazza,  when  Lumley  appeared,  hat  in  hand.  He 
spoke  to  Leonard,  but  looked  at  Amy  with  a  kind  of  wondering 
admiration,  as  if  he  could  not  believe  that  the  girl,  who  looked 
so  fair  and  delicate  in  her  evening  dress,  so  remote  from  him 
and  his  surroundings,  could  ever  have  given  him  her  hand,  and 
spoken  as  if  their  humanity  had  anything  in  common. 

The  Cliffords  were  informed  that  a  fire  had  broken  out  on  a 
tract  adjoining  their  own.  "  City  chaps  was  up  there  gunning 
out  o'  season,"  Lumley  explained,  "  and  wads  from  their  guns 
must  'a  started  it." 

As  there  was  much  wood  ranked  on  the  Clifford  tract,  the 
matter  was  serious.  Abram  and  other  farm-hands  were  sum- 
moned, and  the  brothers  acted  as  did  the  minute-men  in  the 
Revolution  when  the  enemy  appeared  in  their  vicinity.  The 
young  men  excused  themselves,  and  bustle  and  confusion  fol- 
lowed. Burt,  with  a  flannel  blouse  belted  tightly  around  his 


A   FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  319 

waist,  soon  dashed  up  to  the  front  piazza  on  his  horse,  and, 
flourishing  a  rake,  said,  laughingly,  "  I  don't  look  much  like  a 
knight  sallying  forth  to  battle  —  do  I  ?  " 

"  You  look  as  if  you  could  be  one  if  the  occasion  arose," 
Miss  Hargrove  replied. 

During  the  half-jesting  badinage  that  followed  Amy  stole 
away.  Behind  the  house  Webb  was  preparing  to  mount,  when 
a  light  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder.  "You  will  be  careful?"  said 
Amy,  appealingly.  "  You  don't  seem  tp  spare  yourself  in  any- 
thing. I  dread  to  have  you  go  up  into  those  darkening 
mountains." 

"  Why,  Amy,"  he  replied,  laughing,  "  one  would  think  I  was 
going  to  fight  Indians,  and  you  feared  for  my  scalp."  • 

"  I  am  not  so  young  and  blind  but  that  I  can  see  that  you 
are  quietly  half  reckless  with  yourself,"  she  replied ;  and  her 
tone  indicated  that  she  was  a  little  hurt. 

"  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  will  not  be  reckless  to-night ; 
and,  after  all,  this  is  but  disagreeable,  humdrum  work  that  we 
often  have  to  do.  Don't  worry,  little  sister.  Burt  will  be  there 
to  watch  over  me,  you  know,"  he  added.  "  By  the  way,  where 
is  he?  It's  time  we  were  off." 

"  Oh,  he's  talking  romantic  nonsense  to  Miss  Hargrove.  He 
won't  hurt  himself.  I  wish  I  was  as  sure  of  you,  and  I  wish  I 
had  more  influence  over  you.  I'm  not  such  a  very  little  sister, 
even  if  I  don't  know  enough  to  talk  to  you  as  you  would  like  ;" 
and  she  left  him  abruptly. 

He  mastered  a  powerful  impulse  to  spring  from  his  horse  and 
call  her  back.  A  moment's  thought  taught  him,  however,  that 
he  could  not  trust  himself  then  to  say  a  word,  and  he  rode 
rapidly  away. 

"  I  must  be  misunderstood,"  he  muttered.  "That  is  the  best 
chance  for  us  both,  unless  —  But  he  hesitated  to  put  into 
words  the  half-formed  hope  that  Miss  Hargrove's  appearance 
in  the  little  drama  of  their  lives  might  change  its  final  scenes. 
"She's  jealous  of  her  friend,  at  last,"  he  concluded,  and  this  con- 


320  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

viction  gave  him  little  comfort."  Bu'rt  soon  overtook  him,  and 
their  ride  was  comparatively  silent,  for  each  was  busy  with  his 
own  thoughts.  Lumley  was  directed  to  join  them  at  the  fire,  and 
then  was  forgotten  by  all  except  Amy,  who,  by  a  gentle  urgency, 
induced  him  to  go  to  the  kitchen  and  get  a  good  supper.  Be- 
fore he  departed  she  slipped  a  bank-note  into  his  hand  with 
which  to  buy  a  dress  for  the  baby.  Lumley  had  to  pass  more 
than  one  groggery  on  his  way  to  the  mountains,  but  the  money 
was  as  safe  in  his  pocket  as  it  would  have  been  in  Amy's. 

"I  swow  !  I  could  say  my  prayers  to  her  !"  he  soliloquized, 
as  he  hastened  through  the  gathering  darkness  with  his  long, 
swinging  stride.  "  I  didn't  know  there  was  sich  gells.  She's 
never  lectured  me  once,  but  she  jest  smiles  and  looks  a  feller 
into  bein'  a  man." 

Miss  Hargrove  had  noted  Amy's  influence  over  the  moun- 
taineer, and  she  asked  for  an  explanation.  Amy,  in  a  very 
brief,  modest  way,  told  of  her  visits  to  the  wretched  cabin,  and 
said,  in  conclusion  :  "  I  feel  sorry  for  poor  Lumley.  The  fact 
that  he  is  trying  to  do  better,  with  so  much  against  him,  proves 
what  he  might  have  been.  That's  one  of  the  things  that  trouble 
me  most,  as  I  begin  to  think  and  see  a  little  of  life  :  so  many 
people  have  no  chance  worth  speaking  of." 

"The  thing  that  ought  to  trouble  me  most  is,  I  suppose,  that 
those  who  have  a  chance  do  so  little  for  such  people.  Amy," 
she  added,  sadly,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  I've  had  many 
triumphs  over  men,  but  none  like  yours ;  and  I  feel  to-night  as 
if  I  could  give  them  all  to  see  a  man  look  at  me  as  that  poor 
fellow  looked  at  you.  It  was  the  grateful  homage  of  a  human 
soul  to  whom  you  had  given  something  that  in  a  dim  way  was 
fe.lt  to  be  priceless.  The  best  that  I  can  remember  in  my 
pleasure-loving  life  is  that  I  have  not  permitted  myself  selfishly 
and  recklessly  to  destroy  manhood,  but  I  fear  no  one  is  the 
better  for  having  known  me." 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice,"  said  Amy,  warmly.  "  I'm  the 
better  and  happier  for  having  known  you.  Papa  had  a  morbid 


A  FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  321 

horror  of  fashionable  society,  and  this  accounts  for  my  being 
so  unsophisticated.  With  all  your  experience  of  such  society, 
I  have  perfect  faith  in  you,  and  could  trust  you  implicitly." 

"  Have  you  truly  faith  in  me  ?  "  (and  Amy  thought  she  had 
never  seen  such  depth  and  power  in  human  eyes  as  in  those  of 
Miss  Hargrove,  who  encircled  the  young  girl  with  her  arm,  and 
looked  as  if  seeking  to  detect  the  faintest  doubt). 

"  Yes,"  said  Amy,  with  quiet  emphasis. 

Miss  Hargrove  drew  a  long  breath,  and  then  said  :  "  That 
little  word  may  do  me  more  good  than  all  the  sermons  I  ever 
heard.  Many  would  try  to  be  different  if  others  had  more 
faith  in  them.  1  think  that  is  the  secret  of  your  power  over 
the  rough  man  that  has  just  gone.  You  recognized  the  good 
that  was  in  him,  and  made  him  conscious  of  it.  Well,  I  must 
try  to  deserve  your  trust."  Then  she  stepped  out  on  the  dusky 
piazza,  and  sighed,  as  she  thought :  "  It  may  cost  me  dear. 
She  seemed,  troubled  at  my  words  to  Burt,  and  stole  away  as  if 
she  were  the  awkward  third  person.  I  may  have  misjudged 
her,  and  she  cares  for  him  after  all." 

Amy  went  to  the  piano,  and  played  softly  until  summoned^ 
without  by  an  excited  exclamation  from  her  friend.  A  line  of 
fire  was  creeping  towards  them  around  a  lofty  highland,  and  it 
grew  each  moment  more  and  more  distinct.  "  Oh,  I  know 
from  its  position  that  it's  drawing  near  our  tract,"  cried  Amy. 
"  If  it  is  so  bright  to  us  at  this  distance,  it  must  be  almost  terri- 
ble to  those  near  by.  I  suppose  they  are  all  up  there  just  in 
front  of  it,  and  Burt  is  so  reckless."  She  was  about  to  say 
Webb,  but,  because  of  some  unrecognized  impulse,  she  did  not. 
The  utterance  of  Burl's  name,  however,  was  not  lost  on  Miss 
Hargrove. 

For  a  long  time  the  girls  watched  the  scene  with  awe,  and 
each,  in  imagination,  saw  an  athletic  figure  begrimed  with 
smoke,  and  sending  out  grotesque  shadows  into  the  obscurity, 
as  the  destroying  element  was  met  and  fought  in  ways  unknown 
to  them,  which,  they  felt  sure,  involved  danger.  Miss  Hargrove 


322  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

feared  that  they  both  had  the  same  form  in  mind.  She  was 
not  a  girl  to  remain  long  unconscious  of  her  heart's  inclina- 
tions, and  she  knew  that  Burt  Clifford  had  quickened  her  pulses 
as  no  man  had  ever  done  before.  This  very  fact  made  her  less 
judicial,  less  keen,  in  her  insight.  If  he  was  so  attractive  to 
her,  could  Amy  be  indifferent  to  him  after  months  of  compan- 
ionship? She  had  thought  that  she  understood  Amy  thoroughly, 
but  was  beginning  to  lose  faith  in  her  impression.  While  in 
some  respects  Amy  was  still  a  child,  there  were  quiet  depths  in 
her  nature  of  which  the  young  girl  herself  was  but  half  con- 
scious. She  often  lapsed  into  long  reveries.  Webb's  course 
troubled  her.  Never  had  he  been  more  fraternal  in  his  manner, 
but  apparently  she  was  losing  her  power  to  interest  him,  to  lure 
him  away  from  the  material  side  of  life.  "  I  can't  keep  pace  with 
him,"  she  sighed  ;  "  and  now  that  he  has  learned  all  about  my 
little  range  of  thoughts  and  knowledge,  he  finds  that  I  can  be 
scarcely  more  to  him  than  Johnnie,  whom  he  pets  in  much  the 
same  spirit  that  he  does  me,  and  then  goes  to  his  work  or  books 
and  forgets  us  both.  He  could  help  me  so  much,  if  he  only 
thought  it  worth  his  while  !  I'm  sure  I'm  not  contented  to  be 
ignorant,  and  many  of  the  things  that  he  knows  so  much  about 
interest  me  most." 

Thus  each  girl  was  busy  with  her  thoughts,  as  they  sat  in  the 
warm  summer  night  and  watched  the  vivid  line  draw  nearer. 
Mr.  Clifford  and  Maggie  came  out  from  time  to  time,  and  were 
evidently  disturbed  by  the  unchecked  progress  of  the  fire.  Alf 
had  gone  with  his  father,  and  anything  like  a  conflagration  so 
terrified  Johnnie  that  she  dared  not  leave  her  mother's  lighted 
room. 

Suddenly  the  approaching  line  grew  dim,  was  broken,  and 
before  very  long  even  the  last  red  glow  disappeared  utterly. 
"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  they  have  got  the 
fire  under,  and  I  don't  believe  it  reached  our  tract." 

"How  did  they  put  it  out  so  suddenly?"  Miss  Hargrove 
asked.  "  Were  they  not  fighting  it  all  the  time?  " 


A   FIRE  IX  THE  MOUNTAINS.  323 

"  The  boys  will  soon  be  here,  and  they  can  give  you  a  more 
graphic  account  than  I.  Mother  is  a  little  excited  and  troubled, 
as  she  always  is  when  her  great  babies  are  away  on  such  affairs, 
so  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me." 

In  little  more  than  half  an  hour  a  swift  gallop  was  heard,  and 
Burt  soon  appeared,  in  the  light  of  the  late-rising  moon.  "  It's 
all  out,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Leonard  and  Webb  propose  remain- 
ing an  hour  or  two  longer,  to  see  that  it  does  not  break  out 
again.  There's  no  need  of  their  doing  so,  for  Lumley  promised 
to  watch  till  morning.  I'm  not  fit  to  be  seen.  If  you'll  wait 
till  I  put  on  a  little  of  the  aspect  of  a  white  man,  I'll  join  you." 
He  had  been  conscious  of  a  feverish  impatience  to  get  back  to 
the  ladies,  having  carefully,  even  in  his  thoughts,  employed  the 
plural,  and  he  had  feared  that  they  might  have  retired. 

Miss  Hargrove  exclaimed  :  "  How  absurd  !  You  wish  to  go 
and  divest  yourself  of  all  picturesqueness  !  I've  seen  well- 
dressed  men  before,  and  would  much  prefer  that  you  should 
join  us  as  you  are.  We  can  then  imagine  that  you  are  a  bandit 
or  a  frontiersman,  and  that  your  rake  was  a  rifle,  which  you  had 
used  against  the  Indians.  We  are  impatient  to  have  you  tell  us 
how  you  fought  the  fire." 

He  gave  but  scant  attention  to  Thunder  that  night,  and  soon 
stepped  out  on  the  moonlit  piazza,  his  tall,  fine  figure  outlined 
to  perfection  in  his  close-fitting  costume. 

"  You  will,  indeed,  need  all  your  imagination  to  make  any- 
thing of  our  task  to-night,"  he  said.  "  Fighting  a  mountain  fire 
is  the  most  prosaic  of  hard  work.  Suppose  the  line  of  fire  com- 
ing down  towards  me  from  where  you  are  sitting."  As  yet  un- 
known to  him,  a  certain  subtile  flame  was  originating  in  that 
direction.  "  We  simply  begin  well  in  advance  of  it,  so  that  we 
may  have  time  to  rake  a  space,  extending  along,  the  whole  front 
of  the  fire,  clear  of  leaves  and  rubbish,  and  as  far  as  possible 
to  hollow  out  with  hoes  a  trench  through  this  space.  Thus, 
when  the  fire  comes  to  this  cleared  area,  there  is  nothing  to 
burn,  and  it  goes  out  for  want  of  fuel.  Of  course,  it's  rough 


324  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

work,  and  it  must  be  done  rapidly,  but  you  can  see  that  all  the 
heroic  elements  which  you  may  have  associated  with  our  expedi- 
tion are  utterly  lacking." 

"  Well,  no  matter.  Amy  and  I  have  had  our  little  romance, 
and  have  imagined  you  charging  the  line  of  fire  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  strangled  with  smoke,  if  nothing  worse." 

Amy  soon  heard  Maggie  bustling  about,  preparing  a  midnight 
lunch  for  those  who  would  come  home  hungry  as  well  as  weary, 
and  she  said  that  she  would  go  and  try  to  help.  To  Burt  this 
seemed  sufficient  reason  for  her  absence,  but  Miss  Hargrove 


AN   UPLAND   LEDGE. 


thought,  "  Perhaps  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  fixed  chiefly  on 
me  as  he  gave  his  description.  I  wish  I  knew  just  how  she 
feels  towards  him  !  " 

But  the  temptation  to  remain  in  the  witching  moonlight  was 
too  strong  to  be  resisted.  His  mellow  tones  were  a  music  that 
she  had  never  heard  before,  and  her  eyes  grew  lustrous  with 
suppressed  feeling,  and  a  happiness  to  which  she  was  not  sure 
she  was  entitled.  The  spell  of  her  beauty  was  on  him  also,  and 
the  moments  flew  by  unheeded,  until  Amy  was  heard  playing 
and  singing  softly  to  herself.  "  She  does  not  join  us  again  !  " 
was  Miss  Hargrove's  mental  comment,  and  with  not  a  little 
compunction  she  rose  and  went  into  the  parlor.  Burt  lighted 


A   FIRE  IN   THE   MOUNTAINS.  325 

a  cigar,  in  the  hope  that  the  girls  would  again  join  hfm,  but 
Leonard,  Webb,  and  Alf  returned  sooner  than  they  were  ex- 
pected, and  all  speedily  sat  down  to  their  unseasonable  repast. 
To  Amy's  surprise,  Webb  was  the  liveliest  of  the  party,  but  he 
looked  gaunt  from  fatigue  —  so  worn,  indeed,  that  he  reminded 
her  of  the  time  when  he  had  returned  from  Burl's  rescue.  But 
there  was  no  such  episode  as  had  then  occurred  before  they 
parted  for  the  night,  and  to  this  she  now  looked  back  wistfully. 
He  rose  before  the  others,  pleaded  fatigue,  and  went  to  his 
room. 


326  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

CAMPING    OUT. 

r  I  AHEY  all  gathered  at  a  late  breakfast,  and  the  surface  cur- 
X  rent  of  family  and  social  life  sparkled  as  if  there  were  no 
hidden  depths  and  secret  thoughts.  Amy's  manner  was  not 
cold  towards  Webb,  but  her  pride  was  touched,  and  her  feel- 
ings were  a  little  hurt.  While  disposed  to  blame  herself  only 
that  she  had  not  the  power  to  interest  him  and  secure  his  com- 
panionship, as  in  the  past,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  re- 
ceive with  indifference  such  an  apparent  hint  that  he  was  far 
beyond  her.  "  It  would  be  more  generous  in  Webb  to  help 
than  to  ignore  me  because  I  know  so  little,"  she  thought. 
"  Very  well :  I  can  have  a  good  time  with  Burt  and  Gertrude 
until  Webb  gets  over  his  hurry  and  pre-occupation ;  "  and  with 
a  slight  spirit  of  retaliation  she  acted  as  if  she  thoroughly  en- 
joyed Hurt's  lively  talk. 

The  young  fellow  soon  made  a  proposition  that  caused  a 
general  and  breezy  excitement.  "  There  never  was  a  better 
time  than  this  for  camping  out,"  he  said.  "The  ground  is  dry, 
and  there  is  scarcely  any  dew.  I  can  get  two  large  wall  tents. 
Suppose  we  go  up  and  spend  a  few  days  on  our  mountain  tract  ? 
Maggie  could  chaperon  the  party,  and  I've  no  doubt  that  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Marvin  would  join  us." 

The  discussion  of  the  project  grew  lively.  Maggie  was  in- 
clined to  demur.  How  could  she  leave  the  old  people  and  her 
housekeeping?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford,  however,  became  the 
strongest  advocates  of  the  scheme.  They  could  get  along  with 


CAMPING  OUT..  327 

the  servants,  they  said,  and  a  little  outing  would  do  Maggie 
good.  Leonard,  who  had  listened  in  comparative  silence, 
brought  his  wife  to  a  decision  by  saying  :  "  You  had  better  go, 
Maggie.  You  will  have  all  the  housekeeping  you  want  on  the 
mountain,  and  I  will  go  back  and  forth  every  day  and  see  that 
all's  right.  It's  not  as  if  you  were  beyond  the  reach  of  home, 
for  you  could  be  here  in  an  hour  were  there  need.  Come  now, 
make  up  your  mind  for  a  regular  lark.  It  will  do  you  good." 

The  children  were  wild  with  delight  at  the  prospect,  and  Miss 
Hargrove  and  Amy  scarcely  less  pleased.  The  latter  had  fur- 
tively watched  Webb,  who  at  first  could  not  disguise  a  little 
perplexity  and  trouble  at  the  prospect.  But  he  had  thought 
rapidly,  and  felt  that  a  refusal  to  be  one  of  the  party  might 
cause  embarrassing  surmises.  Therefore  he  also  soon  became 
zealous  in  his  advocacy  of  the  plan.  He  felt  that  circumstances 
were  changing  and  controlling  his  action.  He  had  fully  re- 
solved on  an  absence  of  some  weeks,  but  the  prolonged  drought 
and  the  danger  it  involved  —  the  Cliffords  would  lose  at  least  a 
thousand  dollars  should  a  fire  sweep  over  their  mountain  tract 
—  made  it  seem  wrong  for  him  to  leave  home  until  rain  insured 
safety.  Moreover,  he  believed  that  he  detected  symptoms  in 
Burt  which,  with  his  knowledge  of  his  brother,  led  to  hopes 
that  he  could  not  banish.  An  occasional  expression  in  Miss 
Hargrove's  dark  eyes,  also,  did  not  tend  to  lessen  these  hopes. 
"The  lack  of  conventionality  incident  to  a  mountain  camp," 
he  thought,  "  may  develop  matters  so  rapidly  as  to  remove  my 
suspense.  With  all  Amy's  gentleness,  she  is  very  sensitive  and 
proud,  and  Burt  cannot  go  much  farther  with  Miss  Hargrove 
without  so  awakening  her  pride  as  to  render  futile  all  efforts  to 
retrieve  himself.  After  all,  Miss  Hargrove,  perhaps,  would  suit 
him  far  better  than  Amy.  They  are  both  fond  of  excitement 
and  society.  Why  can't  we  all  be  happy  ?  At  least,  if  the  way 
were  clear,  I  would  try  as  no  man  ever  tried  to  win  Amy,  and  I 
should  be  no  worse  off  than  I  am  if  I  failed  in  the  attempt." 

These  musings  were  rather  remote  from  his  practical  words, 


328  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

for  he  had  taken  pains  to  give  the  impression  that  their  wood- 
land would  be  far  safer  for  the  proposed  expedition,  and  Amy 
had  said,  a  little  satirically,  "  We  are  now  sure  of  Webb,  since 
he  can  combine  so  much  business  with  pleasure." 

He  only  smiled  back  in  an  inscrutable  way. 

Musk-melons  formed  one  of  their  breakfast  dishes,  and  Miss 
Hargrove  remarked,  "  Papa  has  been  exceedingly  annoyed  by 
having  some  of  his  finest  ones  stolen." 

Burt  began  laughing,  and  said  :  "  He  should  imitate  my  tac- 
tics. Ours  were  stolen  last  year,  and  as  they  approached 
maturity,  some  time  since,  I  put  up  a  notice  in  large  black 
letters,  '  Thieves,  take  warning :  be  careful  not  to  steal  the 
poisoned  melons.'  Hearing  a  dog  bark  one  night  about  a 
week  ago,  I  took  a  revolver  and  went  out.  The  moonlight  was 
clear,  and  there,  reading  the  notice,  was  a  group  of  ragamuffin 
boys.  Stealing  up  near  them,  behind  some  shrubbery,  I  fired 
my  pistol  in  the  air,  and  they  fairly  tumbled  over  each  other  in 
their  haste  to  escape.  We've  had  no  trouble  since,  I  can  assure 
you.  I'll  drive  you  home  this  morning,  and,  with  your  father's 
permission,  will  put  up  a  similar  notice  in  your  garden.  We 
also  must  make  our  arrangements  for  camping  promptly.  This 
weather  can't  last  much  longer.  It  surely  will  not  if  our  moun- 
tain experience  makes  us  wish  it  would;"  and,  full  of  his 
projects,  he  hastened  to  harness  Thunder  to  his  light  top- 
wagon. 

He  might  have  taken  the  two-seated  carriage,  and  asked 
Amy  to  accompany  them,  but  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  to  do 
so,  especially  as  he  intended  to  drive  on  rapidly  to  Newburgh 
to  make  arrangements  for  the  tents.  She  felt  a  little  slighted 
and  neglected,  and  Miss  Hargrove  saw  that  she  did,  but  thought 
that  any  suggestion  of  a  different  arrangement  might  lead  to 
embarrassment.  She  began  to  think,  with  Webb,  that  the 
camping  experience  would  make  everything  clearer.  At  any 
rate,  it  promised  so  much  unhackneyed  pleasure  that  she 
resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it,  and  then  decide  upon  her 


CAMPING  OUT.  329 

course.  She  was  politic,  and  cautioned  Burt  to  say  nothing  until 
she  had  first  seen  her  father,  for  she  was  not  certain  how  her 
stately  and  conventional  mother  would  regard  the  affair.  She 
pounced  upon  Mr.  Hargrove  in  his  library,  and  he  knew  from  her 
preliminary  caresses  that  some  unusual  favor  was  to  be  asked. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  you  wily  little  strategist,  what  do  you 
want  now?  Half  of  my  kingdom?" 

She  explained  rather  incoherently. 

His  answer  was  unexpected,  for  he  asked,  "  Is  Mr.  Burt 
Clifford  in  the  parlor?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  faintly;  "he's  on  the  piazza."  Then, 
with  unusual  animation,  she  began  about  the  melons.  Her 
father's  face  softened,  and  he  looked  at  her  a  little  humorously, 
for  her  flushed,  handsome  face  would  disarm  a  Puritan. 

"  You  are  seeing  a  great  deal  of  this  young  Mr.  Clifford,"  he 
said. 

Her  color  deepened,  and  she  began,  hastily,  "  Oh,  well, 
papa,  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  a  great  many  gentlemen." 

"Come,  come,  Trurie,  no  disguises  with  me.  Your  old 
father  is  not  so  blind  as  you  think,  and  I've  not  lived  to  my 
time  of  life  in  ignorance  of  the  truth  that  prevention  is  better 
than  cure.  Whether  you  are  aware  of  it  or  not,  your  eyes  have 
revealed  to  me  a  growing  interest  in  Mr.  Clifford." 

She  hid  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

"He  is  a  comparatively  poor  man,  I  suppose,  and  while  I 
think  him  a  fine  fellow,  I've  seen  in  him  no  great  aptness  for 
business.  If  I  saw  that  he  was  no  more  to  you  than  others 
who  have  sought  your  favor,  I  would  not  say  a  word,  Trurie, 
for  when  you  are  indifferent  you  are  abundantly  able  to  take 
care  of  yourself.  I've  been  expecting  this.  I  knew  you  would 
in  time  meet  some  one  who  would  have  the  power  to  do  more 
than  amuse  you,  and  my  love,  darling,  is  too  deep  and  vigilant 
to  be  blind  until  it  is  too  late  to  see.  You  are  merely  interested 
in  Mr.  Clifford  now.  You  might  become  more  than  interested 
during  an  experience  like  the  one  proposed." 


330  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  If  I  should,  papa,  am  I  so  poor  that  I  have  not  even  the 
privilege  of  a  village  girl,  who  can  follow  her  heart?  " 

"  My  advice  would  be,"  he  replied,  gently,  "  that  you  guide 
yourself  by  both  reason  and  your  heart.  This  is  our  secret 
council-chamber,  and  one  is  speaking  to  you  who  has  no 
thought  but  for  your  lasting  happiness." 

She  took  a  chair  near  him,  and  looked  into  his  eyes,  as  she 
said,  thoughtfully  and  gravely  :  "  I  should  be  both  silly  and 
unnatural,  did  I  not  recognize  your  motive  and  love.  I  know 
I  am  not  a  child  any  longer,  and  should  have  no  excuse  for 
any  school-girl  or  romantic  folly.  You  have  always  had  my 
confidence ;  you  would  have  had  it  in  this  case  as  soon  as  there 
was  anything  to  tell.  I  scarcely  understand  myself  as  yet,  but 
must  admit  that  I  am  more  interested  in  Mr.  Clifford  than  in 
any  man  I  ever  met,  and,  as  you  said,  I  also  have  not  reached 
my  time  of  life  without  knowing  what  this  may  lead  to.  You 
married  mamma  when  she  was  younger  than  I,  and  you,  too, 
papa,  were  '  a  comparatively  poor  man '  at  the  time.  I  have 
thought  a  great  deal  about  it.  I  know  all  that  wealth  and  fash- 
ionable society  can  give  me,  and  I  tell  you  honestly,  papa,  I 
would  rather  be  the  happy  wife  that  Maggie  Clifford  is  than 
marry  any  millionaire  in  New  York.  There  is  no  need,  how- 
ever, for  such  serious  talk,  for  there  is  nothing  yet  beyond 
congenial  companionship,  and —  Well,"  she  added,  hastily, 
in  memory  of  Amy,  "  I  don't  believe  anything  will  come  of  it. 
But  I  want  to  go  on  this  expedition.  There  will  probably  be 
two  married  ladies  in  the  party,  and  so  I  don't  see  that  even 
mamma  can  object.  Rest  assured  I  shall  never  become  en- 
gaged to  any  one  without  your  consent ;  that  is,"  she  added, 
with  another  of  her  irresistible  caresses,  "  unless  you  are  very 
unreasonable,  and  I  become  very  old." 

"Very  well,  Trurie,  you  shall  go,  with  your  mother's  consent, 
and  I  think  I  can  insure  that.  As  you  say,  you  are  no  longer 
a  child."  And  his  thought  was,  "  I  have  seen  enough  of  life 
to  know  that  it  is  best  not  to  be  too  arbitrary  in  such  matters." 


CAMPING  OUT.  .  331 

After  a  moment  he  added,  gravely,  "  You  say  you  have  thought. 
Think  a  great  deal  more  before  you  take  any  steps  which  may 
involve  all  your  future." 

Burt  was  growing  uneasy  on  the  piazza,  and  feared  that  Miss 
Hargrove  might  not  obtain  the  consent  that  she  had  counted 
on  so  confidently.  He  was  a  little  surprised,  also,  to  find  how 
the  glamour  faded  out  of  his  anticipations  at  the  thought  of 
her  absence,  but  explained  his  feeling  by  saying  to  himself, 
"  She  is  so  bright  and  full  of  life,  and  has  so  fine  a  voice,  that 
we  should  miss  her  sadly."  He  was  greatly  relieved,  therefore, 
when  Mr.  Hargrove  came  out  and  greeted  him  courteously. 
Gertrude  had  been  rendered  too  conscious,  by  her  recent  inter- 
view, to  accompany  her  father,  but  she  soon  appeared,  and  no 
one  could  have  imagined  that  Burt  was  more  to  her  than  an 
agreeable  acquaintance.  Mrs.  Hargrove  gave  a  reluctant  con- 
sent, and  it  was  soon  settled  that  they  should  try  to  get  off  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  following  day.  Burt  also  included  in  the 
invitation  young  Fred  Hargrove,  and  then  drove  away  elated. 

At  the  dinner-table  he  announced  his  success  in  procuring 
the  tents,  and  his  intention  of  going  for  them  in  the  afternoon. 
At  the  same  time  he  exhorted  Leonard  and  Maggie  to  prepare 
provisions  adequate  to  mountain  appetites,  adding,  "  Webb,  I 
suppose,  will  be  too  busy  to  do  more  than  join  us  at  the  last 
moment." 

Webb  said  nothing,  but  disappeared  after  dinner.  As  he  was 
at  supper  as  usual,  no  questions  were  asked.  Before  it  was  light 
the  next  morning  Amy  thought  she  heard  steps  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  rear  hall-door  shut  softly.  When  finally  awaking,  she 
was  not  sure  but  that  her  impression  was  a  dream.  As  she 
came  down  to  breakfast  Burt  greeted  her  with  dismay. 

"  The  tents,  that  I  put  on  the  back  piazza,  are  gone,"  he 
said. 

"  Where  is  Webb?  "  was  her  quick  response.     . 

No  one  had  seen  him,  and  it  was  soon  learned  that  a  horse 
and  a  strong  wagon  were  also  missing. 


332  .     NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"Ah,  Burt,"  cried  Amy,  laughing,  "rest  assured  Webb  has 
stolen  a  march  on  you,  and  taken  his  own  way  of  retaliation 
for  what  you  said  at  the  dinner-table  yesterday.  He  was  away 
all  the  afternoon,  too.  I  believe  he  has  chosen  a  camping- 
ground,  and  the  tents  are  standing  on  it." 

"  He  should  have  remembered  that  others  might  have  some 
choice  in  the  matter,"  was  the  discontented  reply. 

"  If  Webb  has  chosen  the  camping-ground,  you  will  all  be 
pleased  with  it,"  said  his  mother,  quietly.  "  I  think  he  is 
merely  trying  to  give  a  pleasant  surprise." 

He  soon  appeared,  and  explained  that,  with  Lumley's  help,  he 
had  made  some  preparations,  since  any  suitable  place,  with  water 
near,  from  which  there  was  a  fine  outlook,  would  have  seemed 
very  rough  and  uninviting  to  the  ladies  unless  more  work  was  done 
than  could  be  accomplished  in  the  afternoon  of  their  arrival. 

"  Now  I  think  that  is  very  thoughtful  of  you,  Webb,"  said 
Amy.  "  The  steps  I  heard  last  night  were  not  a  dream.  At 
what  unearthly  hour  did  you  start?" 

"Was  I  so  heavy-footed  as  to  disturb  you?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Webb,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of  comic  distress,  in 
which  there  was  also  a  little  reproach ;  "  it's  not  your  feet  that 
disturb  me,  but  your  head.  You  have  stuffed  it  so  full  of  learn- 
ing that  I  am  depressed  by  the  emptiness  of  mine." 

He  laughed,  as  he  replied,  "  I  hope  all  your  troubles  may 
be  quite  as  imaginary."  Then  he  told  Leonard  to  spend  the 
morning  in  helping  Maggie,  who  would  know  best  what  was 
needed  for  even  mountain  housekeeping,  and  said  that  he  would 
see  to  farm  matters,  and  join  them  early  in  the  evening.  The 
peaches  were  ripening,  and  Amy,  from  her  window,  saw  that  he 
was  taking  from  the  trees  all  fit  for  market ;  also  that  Abram, 
under  his  direction,  was  busy  with  the  watering-cart.  "  Words 
cannot  impose  upon  me,"  she  thought,  a  little  bitterly.  "  He 
knows  how  I  long  for  his  companionship,  and  it's  not  a  little 
thing  to  be  made  to  feel  that  I  am  scarcely  better  qualified  for 
it  than  Johnnie." 


CAMPING  OUT.  333 

Burt  galloped  over  to  Dr.  Marvin's,  who  promised  to  join 
them,  with  his  wife,  on  the  following  day.  He  had  a  tent  which 
he  had  occasionally  used  in  his  ornithological  pursuits. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  a  merry  party  started  for  the  hills. 
All  the  vehicles  on  the  farm  had  been  impressed  into  the  service 
to  bring  up  the  party,  with  chairs,  cooking-utensils,  provisions, 
bedding,  etc.  When  they  reaaked  the  ground  that  Webb  had 
selected,  even  Burt  admitted  his  pleased  surprise.  The  outlook 
over  the  distant  river,  and  a  wide  area  of  country  dotted  with 
villages,  was  superb,  while  to  the  camp  a  home-like  look  had 
already  been  given,  and  the  ladies,  with  many  mental  encomi- 
ums, saw  how  secluded  and  inviting  an  aspect  had  been  im- 
parted to  their  especial  abode.  As  they  came  on  the  scene, 
Lumley  was  finishing  the  construction  of  a  dense  screen  of  ever- 
green boughs,  which  surrounded  the  canvas  to  the  doorway. 
Not  far  away  an  iron  pot  was  slung  on  a  cross-stick  in  gypsy 
style,  and  it  was  flanked  by  rock-work  fireplaces  which  Maggie 
declared  were  almost  equal  to  a  kitchen  range.  The  men's  tent 
was  pitched  at  easy  calling  distance,  and,  like  that  of  the  ladies, 
was  surrounded  by  a  thick  growth  of  trees,  whose  shade  would 
be  grateful.  A  little  space  had  been  cleared  between  the  two 
tents  for  a  leaf-canopied  dining-hall,  and  a  table  of  boards  im- 
provised. The  ground,  as  far  as  possible,  had  been  cleared  of 
loose  stones  and  rubbish.  Around  the  fireplace  mossy  rocks 
abounded,  and  were  well  adapted  for  picturesque  groupings. 
What  touched  Amy  most  was  a  little  flower-bed  made  of  the  rich 
black  mould  of  decayed  leaves,  in  which  were  some  of  her  fa- 
vorite flowers,  well  watered.  This  did  not  suggest  indifference 
on  the  part  of  Webb.  About  fifty  feet  from  the  tents  the  moun- 
tain shelf  sloped  off  abruptly,  and  gave  the  magnificent  view 
that  has  been  mentioned.  Even  Burt  saw  how  much  had  been 
gained  by  Webb's  forethought,  and  frankly  acknowledged  it. 
As  it  was,  they  had  no  more  than  time  to  complete  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  night  before  the  sun's  level  rays  lighted  up  a  scene 
that  was  full  of  joyous  activity  and  bustle.  The  children's 


334  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

happy  voices  made  the  echoes  ring,  and  Fred  Hargrove,  not- 
withstanding his  city  antecedents,  yielded  with  delight  to  the 
love  of  primitive  life  that  exists  in  every  boy's  heart.  Although 
he  was  a  few  years  older  than  Alf,  they  had  become  friendly 
rivals  as  incipient  sportsmen  and  naturalists.  Amy  felt  that  she 
was  coming  close  to  nature's  heart,  and  the  novelty  of  it  all  was 
scarcely  less  exciting  to  her  thajpto  Johnnie.  To  little  Ned  it 
was  a  place  of  wonder  and  enchantment,  and  he  kept  them  all 
in  a  mild  state  of  terror  by  his  exploring  expeditions.  At  last 
his  father  threatened  to  take  him  home,  and,  with  this  awful 
punishment  before  his  eyes,  he  put  his  thumb  in  his  mouth, 
perched  upon  a  rock,  and  philosophically  watched  the  prepara- 
tions for  supper.  Maggie  was  the  presiding  genius  of  the  occa- 
sion, and  looked  like  the  light-hearted  girl  that  Leonard  had 
wooed  more  than  a  dozen  years  before.  She  ordered  him 
around,  jested  with  him,  and  laughed  at  him  in  such  a  piquant 
way  that  Burt  declared  she  was  proving  herself  unfit  for  the 
duties  of  chaperon  by  getting  up  a  flirtation  with  her  husband. 
Meanwhile,  under  her  supervision,  order  was  evoked  from  chaos, 
and  appetizing  odors  arose  from  the  fireplace. 

Miss  Hargrove  admitted  to  herself  that  in  all  the  past  she 
had  never  known  such  hours  of  keen  enjoyment,  and  she  was 
bent  on  proving  that,  although  a  city-bred  girl,  she  could  take 
her  part  in  the  work  as  well  as  in  the  fun.  Nor  were  her  spirits 
dampened  by  the  fact  that  Burt  was  often  at  her  side,  and  that 
Amy  did  not  appear  to  care.  The  latter,  however,  was  becom- 
ing aware  of  his  deepening  interest  in  her  brilliant  friend.  As 
yet  she  was  not  sure  whether  it  was  more  than  a  good-natured 
and  hospitable  effort  to  make  one  so  recently  a  stranger  at  home 
with  them,  or  a  new  lapse  on  his  part  into  a  condition  of  ever- 
enduring  love  and  constancy  —  and  the  smile  that  followed  the 
thought  was  not  flattering  to  Burt. 

A  little  before  supper  was  ready  Maggie  asked  him  to  get  a 
pail  of  water. 

"  Come,  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll  show  you  the 


CAMPING  OUT.  335 

Continental  spring  at  which  the  Revolutionary  soldiers  drank 
more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  ;  "  and  she  tripped  away  with 
him,  nothing  loath.  As  they  re-appeared,  flushed  and  laughing, 
carrying  the  pail  between  them,  Amy  trilled  out, 

"Jack  and  Jill  came  up  the  hill." 

A  moment  later,  Webb  followed  them,  on  horseback,  and 
was  greeted  with  acclamations  and  overwhelmed  with  compli- 
ments. Miss  Hargrove  was  only  too  glad  of  the  diversion  from 
herself,  for  Amy's  words  had  made  her  absurdly  conscious  for  a 
society  girl. 

They  feasted  through  the  long  twilight.  Never  had  green 
corn,  roasted  in  its  husks  on  the  coals,  tasted  so  delicious,  and 
never  before  were  peaches  and  cream  so  ambrosial.  Amy  made 
it  her  care  that  poor  Lumley  should  feast  also,  but  the  smile 
with  which  she  served  him  was  the  sustenance  he  most  craved. 
Then,  as  the  evening  breeze  grew  chilly,  and  the  night  dark- 
ened, lanterns  were  hung  in  the  trees,  the  fire  was  replenished, 
and  they  sat  down,  the  merriest  of  merry  parties.  Even  Webb 
had  vowed  that  he  would  ignore  the  past  and  the  future,  -and 
make  the  most  of  that  camp-fire  by  the  wayside  of  life.  It 
must  be  admitted,  however,  that  his  discovery  of  Burt  and  Miss 
Hargrove  alone  at  the  spring  had  much  to  do  with  his  resolu- 
tion. Stories  and  songs  succeeded  each  other,  until  Ned  was 
asleep  in  Maggie's  arms,  and  Johnnie  nodding  at  her  side.  In 
re-action  from  the  excitements  and  fatigues  of  the  day,  they  all 
early  sought  the  rest  which  is  never  found  in  such  perfection  as 
in  a  mountain  camp.  Hemlock  boughs  formed  the  mattresses 
on  which  their  blankets  were  spread,  and  soon  there  were  no 
sounds  except  the  strident  chirpings  of  insects  and  the  calls  of 
night-birds. 

There  was  one  perturbed  spirit,  however,  and  at  last  Burt 
stole  out  and  sat  by  the  dying  fire.  When  the  mind  is  ready 
for  impressions,  a  very  little  thing  will  produce  them  vividly, 
and  Amy's  snatch  of  song  about  "  Jack  and  Jill "  had  awakened 


336  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Burt  at  last  to  a  consciousness  that  he  might  be  carrying  his 
attentions  to  Miss  Hargrove  too  far,  in  view  of  his  vows  and 
inexorable  purpose  of  constancy.  He  assured  himself  that  his 
only  object  was  to  have  a  good  time,  and  enjoy  the  charming 
society  of  his  riew  acquaintance.  Of  course,  he  was  in  love 
with  Amy,  and  she  was  all  that  he  could  desire.  Perhaps  he 
had  pursued  the  wrong  tactics.  Girls  even  like  Amy  were  not 
so  unsophisticated  as  they  appeared  to  be,  and  he  felt  that  he 
was  profoundly  experienced  in  such  questions,  if  in  nothing 
else.  Had  not  her  pride  been  touched  ?  and  would  she  not  be 
led,  by  his  evident  admiration  for  Miss  Hargrove,  to  believe 
that  he  was  mercurial  and  not  to  be  depended  upon?  He  had 
to  admit  to  himself  that  some  experiences  in  the  past  had 
tended  to  give  him  this  reputation.  "  I  was  only  a  boy  then," 
he  muttered,  with  a  stern  compression  of  the  lips.  "  I'll  prove 
that  I  am  a  man  now ;  "  and  having  made  this  sublime  resolu- 
tion, he  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

All  who  have  known  the  freshness,  the  elasticity,  the  mental 
and  physical  vigor,  with  which  one  springs  from  a  bed  of 
boughs,  will  envy  the  camping  party's  awakening  on  the  follow- 
ing morning.  Webb  resolved  to  remain  and  watch  the  drift  of 
events,  for  he  was  growing  almost  feverish  in  his  impatience  for 
more  definite  proof  that  his  hopes  were  not  groundless.  But 
he  was  doomed  to  disappointment  and  increasing  doubt.  Burt 
began  to  show  himself  a  skilful  diplomatist.  He  felt  that,  per- 
haps, he  had  checked  himself  barely  in  time  to  retrieve  his 
fortunes  and  character  with  Amy,  but  he  was  too  adroit  to 
permit  any  marked  change  to  appear  in  his  manner  and  action. 
He  said  to  himself  that  he  cordially  liked  and  admired  Miss 
Hargrove,  but  he  believed  that  she  had  enjoyed  not  a  few  flirta- 
tions, and  was  not  averse  to  the  addition  of  another  to  the  list. 
Even  his  self-complacency  had  not  led  him  to  think  that  she 
regarded  him  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  very  agreeable 
and  useful  summer  friend.  He  had  seen  enough  of  society  to 
be  aware  that  such  temporary  friendships  often  border  closely 


CAMPING  OUT.  337 

on  the  sentimental,  and  yet  with  no  apparent  trace  remaining 
in  after-years.  To  Amy,  however,  such  affairs  would  not  appear 
in  the  same  light  as  they  might  to  Miss  Hargrove,  and  he  felt 
that  he  had  gone  far  enough.  But  not  for  the  world  would  he 
be  guilty  of  gaucherie,  of  neglecting  Miss  Hargrove  for  osten- 
tatious devotion  to  Amy.  Indeed,  he  was  more  pronounced  in 
his  admiration  than  ever,  but  in  many  little  and  unobtrusive 
ways  he  tried  to  prove  to  Amy  that  she  had  his  deeper  thoughts. 
She,  however,  was  not  at  this  time  disposed  to  dwell  upon  the 
subject.  His  manner  merely  tended  to  confirm  the  view  that 
he,  like  herself,  regarded  Miss  Hargrove  as  a  charming  addition 
to  their  circle,  and  proposed  that  she  should  enjoy  herself 
thoroughly  while  with  them.  Amy  also  reproached  herself  a 
little  that  she  had  doubted  him  so  easily,  and  felt  that  he  was 
giving  renewed  proof  of  his  good  Ksense.  He  could  be  true  to 
her,  and  yet  be  most  agreeable  to  her  friend,  and  her  former  ac- 
quiescence in  the  future  of  his  planning  remained  undisturbed. 
Webb  was  more  like  the  brother  she  wished  him  to  be  than  he 
had  been  for  a  long  time.  The  little  flower-bed  was  an  abiding 
re-assurance,  and  so  the  present  contained  all  that  she  desired. 
This  was  not  true  of  either  Webb  or  Miss  Hargrove.  The 
former,  however,  did  not  lose  heart.  He  thought  he  knew  Burt 
too  well  to  give  up  hope  yet.  The  latter,  with  all  her  experi- 
ence, was  puzzled.  She  speedily  became  conscious  of  the  ab- 
sence of  a  certain  warmth  and  genuineness  in  Burt's  manner  and 
words.  The  thermometer  is  not  so  sensitive  to  heat  and  cold 
as  the  intuition  of  a  girl  like  Miss  Hargrove  to  the  mental  at- 
titude of  an  admirer,  but  no  one  could  better  hide  her  thoughts 
and  feelings  than  she  when  once  upon  her  guard. 


338  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

AN   OLD   TENEMENT. 

THE  few  remaining  days  of  August  passed,  and  September 
came,  bringing  little  suggestion  of  autumn  rains  or  cool- 
ness. Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  had  joined  them,  and  the  former's 
interest  in  every  wild  creature  of  the  woods  became  infectious. 
Alf  and  Fred  were  his  ardent  disciples,  and  he  rarely  found  an 
indifferent  listener  in  Amy.  The  heat  of  the  day  was  given  up 
to  reading  and  the  fashioning  of  alpenstocks,  and  the  mornings 
and  late  afternoons  to  excursions.  In  one  of  these  they  had 
sat  down  to  rest  near  an  immense  decaying  tree  that  was  hollow 
in  parts,  and  full  of  holes  from  the  topmost  shattered  branches 
to  the  ground. 

"  That,"  said  the  doctor,  "  might  fitly  be  called  an  old  tene- 
ment-house. You  have  no  idea  how  many  and  various  creatures 
may  have  found  a  home  in  it." 

He  was  immediately  urged  to  enumerate  its  possible  inhabit- 
ants in  the  past,  present,  and  future. 

The  doctor,  pleased  with  the  conceit  of  regarding  the  decay- 
ing tree  in  this  light,  began  with  animation  :  "  All  three  of  the 
squirrels  of  this  region  have  undoubtedly  dwelt  in  it.  I  scarcely 
need  do  more  than  mention  the  well-known  saucy  red  or  fox 
squirrel,  whose  delight  is  mischief.  By  the  way,  we  have  at 
home  two  tame  robins  that  before  they  could  fly  were  tumbled 
out  of  their  nest  by  one  of  these  ruthless  practical  jokers.  The 
birds  come  in  and  out  of  the  house  like  members  of  the  family. 
The  graceful  gray  squirrel  is  scarcely  less  familiar  than  the  red 


AN  OLD   TENEMENT.  339 

one.  He  makes  a  lively  pet,  and  we  have  all  seen  him  turning 
the  wheel  attached  to  his  cage.  The  curious  little  flying-squir- 
rel, however,  is  a  stranger  even  to  those  to  whom  he  may  be  a 
near  neighbor,  for  the  reason  that  his  habits  are  chiefly  noc- 
turnal. He  ventures  out  occasionally  on  a  cloudy  day,  but  is 
shy  and  retiring.  Thoreau  relates  an  interesting  experience 
with  one.  He  captured  it  in  a  decayed  hemlock  stump,  where- 
in it  had  a  little  nest  of  leaves,  bits  of  bark,  and  pine  needles. 
It  bit  viciously  at  first,  and  uttered  a  few  '  dry  shrieks/  but  he 
carried  it  home.  After  it  had  been  in  his  room  a  few  hours  it 
reluctantly  allowed  its  soft  fur  to  be  stroked.  He  says  it  had 
'  very  large,  prominent  black  eyes,  which  gave  it  an  innocent 
look.  In  color  it  was  a  chestnut  ash,  inclining  to  fawn,  slightly 
browned,  and  white  beneath.  The  under  edge  of  his  wings  ( ?) 
tinged  yellow,  the  upper  dark,  perhaps  black.'  He  put  it  into 
a  barrel,  and  fed  it  with  an  apple  and  shag-bark  hickory-nuts. 
The  next  morning  he  carried  it  back  and  placed  it  on  the 
stump  from  which  it  had  been  taken,  and  it  ran  up  a  sapling, 
from  which  it  skimmed  away  to  a  large  maple  nine  feet  distant, 
whose  trunk  it  struck  about  four  feet  from  the  ground.  This 
tree  it  ascended  thirty  feet  on  the  opposite  side  from  Thoreau, 
then,  coming  into  view,  it  eyed  its  quondam  captor  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two,  as  much  as  to  say  'good-by.'  Then  away  it  went, 
first  raising  its  head  as  if  choosing  its  objective  point.  Thoreau 
says  its  progress  is  more  like  that  of  a  bird  than  he  had  been 
led  to  believe  from  naturalists'  accounts,  or  than  he  could  have 
imagined  possible  in  a  quadruped.  Its  flight  was  not  a  regular 
descent  on  a  given  line.  It  veered  to  right  and  left,  avoiding 
obstructions,  passed  between  branches  of  trees,  and  flew  hori- 
zontally part  of  the  way,  landing  on  the  ground  at  last,  over 
fifty-one  feet  from  the  foot  of  the  tree  from  which  it  sprang. 
After  its  leap,  however,  it  cannot  renew  its  impetus  in  the  air, 
but  must  alight  and  start  again.  It  appears  to  sail  and  steer 
much  like  a  hawk  when  the  latter  does  not  flap  its  wings.  The 
little  striped  chipmunk,  no  doubt,  has  heaped  up  its  store  of 


340  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

nuts  in  the  hole  there  that  opens  from  the  ground  into  the  tree, 
and  the  pretty  white-footed  mouse,  with  its  large  eyes  and  ears, 
has  had  its  apartment  in  the  decayed  recesses  that  exist  in  the 
worm-eaten  roots. 

"  Opossums  and  raccoons  are  well-known  denizens  of  trees, 
and  both  furnish  famous  country  sports,  especially  in  the  South. 
'  'Possum  up  de  gum-tree,  cooney  in  de  hollow,'  is  a  line  from 
a  negro  ditty  that  touches  a  deep  chord  in  the  African  heart. 
The  former  is  found  not  infrequently  in  this  region,  but  the 
Hudson  seems  to  be  the  eastern  boundary  of  its  habitat." 

"  I  took  two  from  a  tree  in  one  night,"  Burt  remarked. 

"  The  raccoon's  haunts,  however,  extend  far  to  the  northward, 
and  it  is  abundant  in  the  regions  bordering  on  the  Adirondacks, 
though  not  common  in  the  dense  pine  woods  of  the  interior. 
They  are  omnivorous  creatures,  and  often  rob  nests  of  eggs  and 
young*  birds,  for  they  are  expert  climbers.  They  are  fond  of 
nuts  and  fruits,  and  especially  of  corn  when  in  the  condition  of 
a  milky  pulp.  Nor  does  poultry  come  amiss.  They  are  also 
eager  fishermen,  although  they  are  unable  to  pursue  their  prey 
under  water  like  the  otter  and  mink.  They  like  to  play  in 
shallows,  and  leave  no  stone  unturned  in  the  hope  of  finding  a 
crawfish  under  it.  If  fish  have  been  left  in  land-locked  pools, 
they  are  soon  devoured.  'Coon-hunting  by  the  light  of  the 
harvest-moon  has  long  been  one  of  the  most  noted  of  rural 
sports.  During  this  month  the  corn  kernels  are  in  the  most 
toothsome  state  for  the  'coon  bill  of  fare,  and  there  are  few 
fields  near  forests  where  they  will  not  be  marauding  to-night, 
for  they  are  essentially  night  prowlers.  A  'coon  hunt  usually 
takes  place  near  midnight.  Men,  with  dogs  trained  to  the 
sport,  will  repair  to  a  corn-field  known  to  be  infested.  The 
feasters  are  soon  tracked  and  treed,  then  shot,  or  else  the  tree 
is  felled,  when  such  a  snarling  fight  ensues  as  creates  no  little 
excitement.  No  matter  how  plucky  a  cur  may  be,  he  finds  his 
match  in  an  old  'coon,  and  often  carries  the  scars  of  combat  to 
his  dying  day. 


AN  OLD   TENEMENT. 


341 


"  If  taken  when  young,  raccoons  make  amusing  pets,  and 
become  attached  to  their  masters,  but  they  cannot  be  allowed 
at  large,  for  they  are  as  mischievous  as  monkeys.  Their  curios- 
ity is  boundless,  and  they  will  pry  into  everything  within  reach. 
Anything,  to  be  beyond  their  reach,  must  be  under  lock  and 
key.  They  use  their  fore-paws  as  hands,  and  will  unlatch  a 


DISREPUTABLE   TENANTS. 

door  with  ease,  and  soon  learn  to  turn  a  knob.  Alf  there  could 
not  begin  to  ravage  a  pantry  like  a  tame  'coon.  They  will 
devour  honey,  molasses,  sugar,  pies,  cake,  bread,  butter,  milk  — 
anything  edible.  They  will  uncover  preserve-jars  as  if  Mrs. 
Leonard  had  given  them  lessons,  and  with  the  certainty  of  a 
toper  uncork  a  bottle  and  get  drunk  on  its  contents." 
"  No  pet  'coons,  Alf,  if  you  please,"  said  his  mother. 


342  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

"  Raccoons  share  with  Reynard  his  reputation  for  cunning," 
the  doctor  resumed,  "  and  deserve  it,  but  they  do  not  use  this 
trait  for  self-preservation.  They  are  not  suspicious  of  unusual 
objects,  and,  unlike  a  fox,  are  easily  trapped.  They  hibernate 
during  the  coldest  part  of  the  winter,  re-appearing  in  the  latter 
part  of  February  or  March.  They  are  fond  of  little  excursions, 
and  usually  travel  in  small  family  parties,  taking  refuge  in  hol- 
low trees  about  daylight.  They  make  their  home  high  up,  and 
prefer  a  hollow  limb  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  Some  of  those 
half-decayed  limbs  yonder  would  just  suit  them.  They  have 
their  young  in  April  —  from  four  to  six  —  and  these  little  'coons 
remain  with  the  mother  a  year.  While  young  they  are  fair  eat- 
ing, but  grow  tough  and  rank  with  age. 

"  Two  other  interesting  animals  may  have  lived  in  that  tree, 
the  least  weasel  and  his  sanguinary  cousin  the  ermine,  or  large 
weasel.  Both  are  brown,  after  the  snow  finally  disappears,  and 
both  turn  white  with  the  first  snow-storm." 

"  Now  you  are  romancing,  doctor,"  cried  Miss  Hargrove. 

"  Yes,"  added  Leonard,  "  tell  us  that  you  have  caught  a 
weasel  asleep,  and  we  will,  at  least,  look  credulous ;  but  this 
turning  white  with  the  first  snow,  and  brown  as  soon  as  the 
snow  is  gone,  is  a  little  off  color." 

"  It's  true,  nevertheless,"  maintained  the  doctor,  "  although 
I  have  seen  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  changes.  They 
not  only  make  their  nests  in  hollow  trees,  but  in  the  sides  of 
banks.  Were  it  not  for  its  habit  of  destroying  the  eggs  and 
young  of  birds,  the  least  weasel  might  be  regarded  as  a  wholly 
useful  creature,  for  it  devours  innumerable  mice,  moles,  shrews, 
and  insects,  and  does  not  attack  larger  animals  or  poultry.  It 
is  so  exceedingly  lithe  and  slender  that  its  prey  has  no  chance 
to  escape.  Where  a  mouse  or  a  mole  can  go  it  can  go  also, 
and  if  outrun  in  the  field,  it  follows  the  scent  of  its  game  like  a 
hound,  and  is  as  relentless  as  fate  in  its  pursuit.  They  are  not 
very  shy,  and  curiosity  speedily  overcomes  their  timidity.  Sit 
down  quietly,  and  they  will  investigate  you  with  intense  interest, 


AN  OLD   TENEMENT.  343 

and  will  even  approach  rather  near  in  order  to  see  better.  Dr. 
Merriam  describes  one  as  standing  bolt-upright,  and  eying 
him,  with  its  head  bent  at  right  angles  to  its  slender  body. 
After  a  brief  retreat  it  made  many  partial  advances  towards 
him,  meanwhile  constantly  sniffing  the  air  in  his  direction.  I've 
no  doubt  Dr.  Merriam  would  have  liked  to  know  the  weasel's 
opinion.  They  have  two  or  three  litters  a  year,  and  the  nest  is 
made  of  dry  leaves  and  herbage.  The  mother  weasel  will 
defend  her  young  at  any  cost,  and  never  hesitates  to  sacrifice 
her  life  in  their  behalf.  She  will  fasten  herself  by  her  sharp 
teeth  to  the  nose  of  a  dog,  and  teach  him  that  weasel-hunting 
has  some  drawbacks. 

"  In  its  next  of  kin,  the  ermine,  or  large  weasel,  we  have  per- 
haps the  most  cruel  and  bloodthirsty  animal  in  existence.  It  is 
among  mammals  what  the  butcher-bird  is  among  the  feathered 
tribes  —  an  assassin,  a  beautiful  fiend.  It  would  seem  that 
nature  reproduces  among  animals  and  plants  every  phase  of 
human  character.  Was  it  Nero  or  Caligula  who  said,  '  Oh,  that 
Rome  had  but  one  neck,  that  I  might  sever  it '  ?  Such  is  the 
spirit  that  animates  the  ermine.  Its  instinct  to  kill  is  so  strong 
that,  were  it  possible,  it  would  destroy  the  means  of  its  subsist- 
ence. It  would  leave  none  of  its  varied  prey  alive.  The  lion 
and  even  the  man-eating  tiger,  when  gorged,  are  inert  and 
quiet.  They  kill  no  more  than  they  want  for  a  meal ;  but  the 
ermine  will  attack  a  poultry-yard,  satiate  itself  with  the  brains 
of  the  fowls  or  by  sucking  their  blood,  and  then,  out  of  '  pure 
cussedness,'  will  kill  all  the  rest  within  reach.  Fifty  chickens 
have  been  destroyed  in  a  night  by  one  of  these  remorseless 
little  beasts.  It  makes  fearful  ravages  among  grouse,  rabbits, 
and  hares.  It  is  the  mythical  vampire  embodied.  It  is  not 
very  much  larger  than  the  least  weasel,  and  has  the  same  long, 
lithe,  slender  body  and  neck.  A  gray  squirrel  would  look 
bulky  beside  one,  but  in  indomitable  courage  and  pitiless 
ferocity  I  do  not  think  it  has  an  equal.  Only  lack  of  material 
or  bodily  fatigue  suspends  its  bloody  work,  and  its  life  is  one 


344  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

long  career  of  carnage.  It  has  a  terrific  set  of  teeth,  which  are 
worked  by  most  powerful  muscles.  Dr.  Coues,  an  eminent  nat- 
uralist, has  given  a  graphic  account  of  him.  His  words,  as  I 
remember  them,  are  a  true  portrait  of  a  murderer.  '  His  fore- 
head is  low,  and  nose  sharp ;  his  eyes  are  small,  penetrating, 
cunning,  and  glitter  with  an  angry  green  light.  His  fierce  face 
surmounts  a  body  extraordinarily  wiry,  lithe,  and  muscular, 
which  ends  in  a  singularly  long,  slender  neck  that  can  be  lifted 
at  right  angles  with  the  body.  When  he  is  looking  around,  his 
neck  stretched  up,  his  flat,  triangular  head  bent  forward,  sway- 
ing to  and  fro,  we  have  the  image  of  a  serpent.' 

"  This  is  a  true  picture  of  the  ermine  when  excited  or  angry ; 
when  at  rest,  and  in  certain  conditions  of  his  fur,  there  are  few 
more  beautiful,  harmless,  innocent-looking  creatures.  Let  one 
of  the  animals  on  which  he  preys  approach,  however,  and  in- 
stantly he  becomes  a  demon.  .  In  the  economy  of  nature  he 
often  serves  a  very  useful  purpose.  In  many  regions  field-mice 
are  destructive.  The  ermine  is  their  deadliest  foe.  A  rat  will 
fight  a  man,  if  cornered,  but  it  gives  up  at  once  in  abject  terror 
when  confronted  by  the  large  weasel.  This  arch-enemy  has  a 
pride  in  his  hunting,  and  when  taking  up  his  quarters  in  a  barn 
will  collect  in  one  place  all  the  rats  and  mice  he  kills.  Some- 
times a  hundred  or  more  have  been  found  together  as  the  result 
of  two  or  three  nights'  work.  The  ermine  hunts,  however,  both 
by  day  and  night,  and  climbs  trees  with  great  facility.  He  is 
by  no  means  shy,  and  one  has  been  known  to  try  to  kill  chickens 
in  a  coop  when  a  man  was  standing  near  him.  Hunger  was  not 
his  motive,  for  he  had  destroyed  dozens  of  fowls  the  night 
before.  The  ermine  has  been  used  successfully  as  a  ferret. 
Having  first  filed  the  creature's  teeth  down,  so  that  it  could 
not  kill  the  game,  a  gentleman  secured  twelve  live  rabbits  in 
one  forenoon. 

"  But  it's  getting  late,  and  time  we  started  tentward,  and 
yet  I'm  not  through  even  the  list  of  quadrupeds  that  may- 
have  dwelt  in  our  old  tenement.  There  are  four  species  of 


CAUGHT  NAPPING. 


346 


NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


bats  to  be  mentioned,  besides  moles  and  shrews,  that  would 
burrow  in  its  roots  if  they  are  as  hollow  as  the  branches.  There 
are  thirteen  species  of  birds,  including  several  very  interesting 
families  of  woodpeckers,  that  would  live  in  a  tree  like  that,  not 
to  speak  of  tree-toads,  salamanders,  brown  tree-lizards,  insects 
and  slugs  innumerable,  and  black-snakes  —  " 


THE   WOODPECKER    AT    HOME. 


"Snakes?"  interrupted  Burt,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  snakes.  I  once  put  my  hand  in  a  hole  for  high-holders' 
eggs,  and  a  big  black-snake  ran  down  my  back,  but  not  inside 
of  my  coat,  however." 

"  Please  say  nothing  more  about  snakes,"  cried  Amy ;  and 
she  rose  decisively,  adding,  in  a  low  tone  :  "  Come,  Gertrude, 
let  us  go.  The  tenants  of  the  old  tree  that  we've  heard  about 


AN  OLD   TENEMENT.  347 

may  be  very  interesting  to  naturalists,  but  some  of  them  are  no 
more  to  my  taste  than  the  people  in  the  slums  of  London." 

"  You  have  made  our  blood  run  cold  with  horrors  —  an  agree- 
able sensation,  however,  to-day,"  said  Burt,  also  rising.  "Your 
ermine  out-Herods  Herod.  By  the  way,  is  not  the  fur  of  this 
pitiless  beast  worn  by  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  legal  pro- 
fession?" and  he  hastened  after  the  girls. 


348  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

"BUT   HE   RISKED   HIS   LIFE?" 

THE  days  passed,  and  the  novelty  of  their  mountain  life 
began  to  wane  a  little.  There  were  agreeable  episodes, 
as,  for  instance,  visits  from  Mr.  Clifford,  Mr.  Hargrove,  and  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Barkdale,  who  were  entertained  in  royal  style ;  but, 
after  all,  the  camping  experience  was  not,  apparently,  fulfilling 
the  hopes  of  two  of  the  party.  Webb's  doubt  and  suspense 
had  only  been  increased,  and  Miss  Hargrove  was  compelled  to 
admit  to  herself  that  her  father's  fears  were  not  groundless. 
She  was  the  life  of  the  party,  and  yet  she  was  not  at  rest.  Even 
in  her  dreams  there  was  a  minor  key  of  trouble  and  dread. 
The  past  few  weeks  were  bringing  a  revelation.  She  had  read 
novels  innumerable ;  she  had  received  tender  confidences  from 
friends.  Love  had  been  declared  to  her,  and  she  had  seen  its 
eloquent  pleading  in  more  than  one  face  ;  but  she  acknowledged 
that  she  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  the  word  until,  with- 
out her  volition,  her  own  heart  revealed  to  her  the  mystery. 
Reason  and  will  might  control  her  action,  but  she  could  no 
more  divert  her  thoughts  from  Burt  Clifford  than  a  flower  can 
turn  from  the  sun.  She  wondered  at  herself,  and  was  troubled. 
She  had  supposed  that  the  training  of  society  had  brought  her 
perfect  self-possession,  and  she  had  looked  forward  to  a  match, 
when  she  was  ready  for  one,  in  which  the  pros  and  cons  should 
be  weighed  with  diplomatic  nicety ;  but  now  that  her  heart  was 
touched  she  learned  that  nature  is  supreme,  and  her  whole 
being  revolted  at  such  a  union  as  she  had  contemplated.  She 


"BUT  HE  RISKED  HIS  LIFE?"  349 

saw  the  basis  of  true  marriage — the  glad  consent  of  body  and 
soul,  and  not  a  calculation.  She  watched  Maggie  closely,  and 
saw  that  her  life  was  happy  and  rounded  out  in  spite  of  her 
many  cares.  It  was  not  such  a  life  as  she  would  choose  in  its 
detail,  and  yet  it  was  infinitely  better  than  that  of  many  of  her 
acquaintances.  Burt  was  no  hero  in  her  eyes,  but  he  was  im- 
mensely companionable,  and  it  was  a  companion,  not  a  hero, 
or  a  man  remote  from  her  life  and  interests,  that  she  desired 
He  was  refined  and  intelligent,  if  not  learned ;  low,  mean  traits 
were  conspicuously  absent ;  but,  above  and  beyond  all,  his 
mirthful  blue  eyes,  and  spirited  ways  and  words,  set  all  her 
nerves  tingling  with  a  delicious  exhilaration  which  she  could 
neither  analyze  nor  control.  In  brief,  the  time  that  her  father 
foresaw  had  come  ;  the  man  had  appeared  who  could  do  more 
than  amuse  ;  her  whole  nature  had  made  its  choice.  She  could 
go  back  to  the  city,  and  still  in  semblance  be  the  beautiful  and 
brilliant  girl  that  she  had  been ;  but  she  knew  that  in  all  the 
future  few  waking  hours  would  pass  without  her  thoughts  re- 
verting to  that  little  mountain  terrace,  its  gleaming  canvas,  its 
gypsy-like  fire,  with  a  tall,  lithe  form  often  reclining  at  her  feet 
beside  it. 

Would  the  future  bring  more  than  regretful  memories  ?  As 
time  passed,  she  feared  not. 

As  Burt  grew  conscious  of  himself,  his  pride  was  deeply 
touched.  He  knew  that  he  had  been  greatly  fascinated  by  Miss 
Hargrove,  and,  what  was  worse,  her  power  had  not  declined 
after  he  had  awakened  to  his  danger ;  but  he  felt  that  Amy  and 
all  the  family  would  despise  him  —  indeed,  that  he  would  de- 
spise himself —  should  he  so  speedily  transfer  his  allegiance ; 
and  under  the  spur  of  this  dread  he  made  especial,  though  very 
unobtrusive,  efforts  to  prove  his  loyalty  to  Amy.  Therefore 
Webb  had  grown  despondent,  and  his  absences  from  the  camp 
were  longer  and  more  frequent.  He  pleaded  the  work  of  the 
farm,  and  the  necessity  of  coping  with  the  fearful  drought,  so 
plausibly  that  Amy  felt  that  she  could  not  complain,  but,  after 


350  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

all,  there  was  a  low  voice  of  protest  in  her  heart.  "  It's  the  old 
trouble,"  she  thought.  "  The  farm  interests  him  far  more  than 
I  ever  can,  and  even  when  here  his  mind  is  absent." 

Thus  it  may  be  seen  that  Nature,  to  whom  they  had  gone, 
was  not  only  busy  with  the  mountain  and  its  life,  but  that  her 
silent  forces  were  also  at  work  in  those  whose  unperverted  hearts 
were  not  beyond  her  power. 

But  there  are  dark  mysteries  in  Nature,  and  some  of  her 
creations  appear  to  be  visible  and  concentrated  evil.  The 
camping  party  came  very  near  breaking  up  in  a  horrible  tragedy, 
The  day  was  growing  warm,  and  they  were  returning  from  a 
rather  extended  excursion,  straggling  along  a  steep  wood  road 
that  was  partially  overgrown  with  bushes.  Burt  had  been  a 
little  more*  attentive  to  Miss  Hargrove  than  usual,  but  was  now 
at  Amy's  side  with  his  ready  laugh  and  jest.  Dr.  Marvin  was 
in  the  rear,  peering  about,  as  usual,  for  some  object  of  interest 
to  a  naturalist.  Miss  Hargrove,  so  far  from  succumbing  to  the 
increasing  heat,  was  reluctant  to  return,  and  seemed  possessed 
with  what  might  be  almost  termed  a  nervous  activity.  She  had 
been  the  most  indefatigable  climber  of  the  party,  and  on  their 
return  had  often  diverged  from  the  path  to  gather  a  fern  or 
some  other  sylvan  trifle.  At  one  point  the  ascending  path 
formed  an  angle  with  a  ledge  of  rock  that  made  a  little  platform. 
At  the  farther  end  of  this  she  saw  a  flower,  and  she  went  to  get 
it.  A  moment  or  two  later  Burt  and  Amy  heard  her  scream, 
and  the  sound  of  her  voice  seemed  almost  beneath  them. 
Grasping  his  alpenstock  firmly,  Burt  sprang  through  the  inter- 
vening copsewood,  and  witnessed  a  scene  that  he  never  forgot, 
though  he  paused  not  a  second  in  his  horror.  Even  as  he  rushed 
towards  her  a  huge  rattlesnake  was  sending  forth  the  "  long, 
loud,  stinging  whir  "  which,  as  Dr.  Holmes  says,  is  "  the  dread- 
ful sound  that  nothing  which  breathes  can  hear  unmoved." 
Miss  Hargrove  was  looking  down  upon  it,  stupefied,  paralyzed 
with  terror.  Already  the  reptile  was  coiling  its  thick  body  for 
the  deadly  stroke,  when  Burt's  stock  fell  upon  its  neck  and  laid 


-BUT  HE  RISKED  HIS  LIFE?"  351 

it  writhing  at  the  girl's  feet.  With  a  flying  leap  from  the  rock 
above  he  landed  on  the  venomous  head,  and  crushed  it  with  his 
heel.  He  had  scarcely  time  to  catch  Miss  Hargrove,  when  she 
became  apparently  a  lifeless  burden  in  his  arms. 

Dr.  Marvin  now  reached  him,  and  after  a  glance  at  the  scene 
exclaimed,  "  Great  God  !  Burt,  she  was  not  bitten?  " 

"  No ;  but  let  us  get  away  from  here.  Where  there's  one  of 
these  devils  there  is  usually  another  not  far  off;"  and  they 
carried  the  unconscious  girl  swiftly  towards  the  camp,  which 
fortunately  was  not  far  away,  all  the  others  following  with  dread 
and  anxiety  in  their  faces. 

Dr.  Marvin's  and  Maggie's  efforts  soon  revived  Miss  Hargrove, 
but  she  had  evidently  received  a  very  severe  nervous  shock. 
When  at  last  Burt  was  permitted  to  see  her,  she  gave  him  her 
hand  with  such  a  look  of  gratitude,  and  something  more,  which 
she  could  not  then  disguise,  that  his  heart  began  to  beat 
strangely  fast.  He  was  so  confused  that  he  could  only  stammer 
some  incoherent  words  of  congratulation ;  but  he  half-con- 
sciously  gave  her  hand  a  pressure  that  left  the  most  delicious 
pain  the  young  girl  had  ever  known.  He  was  deeply  excited, 
for  he  had  taken  a  tremendous  risk  in  springing  upon  a  creature 
that  can  strike  its  crooked  fangs  through  the  thick  leather  of 
a  boot,  as  a  New  York  physician  once  learned  at  the  cost  of  his 
life,  when  he  carelessly  sought  to  rouse  with  his  foot  a  caged 
reptile  of  this  kind. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  ceased  to  be  a  charming  summer  ac- 
quaintance to  Burt.  She  was  the  woman  at  whose  side  he  had 
stood  in  the  presence  of  death. 

Before  their  midday  repast  was  ready  a  rumble  of  wagons 
was  heard  coming  up  the  mountain,  and  Webb  soon  appeared. 
"The  barometer  is  falling  rapidly,"  he  said,  "and  father 
agrees  with  me  that  it  will  be  safer  for  you  all  to  return  at 
once." 

He  found  ready  acquiescence,  for  after  the  event  of  the 
morning  the  ladies  were  in  haste  to  depart.  Lumley,  who  had 


352  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

come  up  with  Webb,  was  sent  to  take  the  rattles  from  the  snake, 
and  the  men  drew  apart,  with  Alf  and  Fred,  to  discuss  the  ad- 
venture, for  it  was  tacitly  agreed  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  talk 
about  snakes  to  those  whose  nerves  were  already  unstrung  at 
the  thought  of  such  fearful  neighbors.  Dr.  Marvin  would  have 
gone  with  Lumley  had  not  his  wife  interposed.  As  it  was,  he 
had  much  to  say  concerning  the  habits  and  character  of  the 
reptiles,  to  which  the  boys  listened  with  awe.  "  By  the  way," 
he  concluded,  "  I  remember  a  passage  from  that  remarkable 
story,  '  Elsie  Venner,'  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in  which  he 
gives  the  most  vivid  description  of  the  rattlesnake  I  have  ever 
seen.  One  of  his  characters  has  two  of  them  in  a  cage.  '  The 
expression  of  the  creatures/  he  writes, '  was  watchful,  still,  grave, 
passionless,  fate-like,  suggesting  a  cold  malignity  which  seemed 
to  be  waiting  for  its  opportunity.  Their  awful,  deep-cut  mouths 
were  sternly  closed  over  long,  hollow  fangs,  which  rested  their 
roots  against  the  swollen  poison-gland  where  the  venom  had 
been  hoarded  up  ever  since  the  last  stroke  had  emptied  it. 
They  never  winked,  for  ophidians  have  no  movable  eyelids, 
but  kept  up  an  awful  fixed  stare.  Their  eyes  did  not  flash,  but 
shone  with  a  cold,  still  light.  They  were  of  a  pale  golden  color, 
horrible  to  look  into,  with  their  stony  calmness,  their  pitiless  in- 
difference, hardly  enlivened  by  the  almost  imperceptible  vertical 
slit  of  the  pupil,  through  which  Death  seemed  to  be  looking 
out,  like  the  archer  behind  the  long,  narrow  loophole  in  a  blank 
turret  wall.'  The  description  is  superb,  and  impressed  itself 
so  deeply  on  my  mind  that  I  can  always  recall  it." 

The  ladies  now  joined  them  at  dinner  —  the  last  at  their  rus- 
tic board.  Miss  Hargrove  was  very  pale,  but  she  was  a  spirited 
girl,  and  was  bent  on  proving  that  there  was  nothing  weak  or 
hysterical  in  her  nature.  Neither  was  there  the  flippancy  that 
a  shallow  woman  might  have  manifested.  She  acted  like  a 
brave,  well-bred  lady,  whose  innate  refinement  and  good  sense 
enabled  her  speedily  to  regain  her  poise,  and  take  her  natural 
place  among  her  friends.  They  all  tried  to  be  considerate,  and 


"BUT  HE  RISKED  HIS  LIFE?"  353 

Amy's  solicitude  did  not  indicate  the  jealousy  that  her  friend 
almost  expected  to  see. 

Before  they  had  finished  their  repast  an  east  wind  was  moan- 
ing and  sighing  in  the  trees,  and  a  thin  scud  of  clouds  over- 
casting the  sky.  They  were  soon  in  the  haste  and  bustle  of 
departure.  Miss  Hargrove  found  an  opportunity,  however,  to 
draw  Dr.  Marvin  aside,  and  asked,  hesitatingly, 

"  If  Burt  —  if  Mr.  Clifford  had  missed  his  aim  when  he  sprang 
upon  the  snake,  what  would  have  happened?" 

"You  had  better  not  dwell  on  that  scene  for  the  present, 
Miss  Hargrove." 

"  But  I  wish  to  know,"  she  said,  decisively.  "  I  am  not  a 
child,  and  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  gravely,  "you  are  brave  about  it, 
and  may  as  well  know  the  truth.  Indeed,  a  little  thought 
would  soon  make  it  clear  to  you  that  if  he  had  struck  the  body 
of  the  snake  and  left  its  head  free,  it  would  have  bitten  him." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said,  "  I  thought  as  much ; " 
then  added,  in  a  low  tone,  "  Would  it  have  been  death? " 

"  Not  necessarily ;  but  only  the  most  vigorous  treatment 
could  have  saved  him." 

"But  he  risked  his  life?"  she  persisted. 

"  Certainly ;  but  a  brave  man  could '  scarcely  have  acted 
otherwise.  The  snake  was  at  your  very  feet." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  simply,  and  there  was  a  very  gentle 
expression  in  her  eyes. 

Much  of  the  work  of  breaking  up  was  left  to  Lumley,  and 
an  abundant  reward  for  his  labor.  He  had  returned  with  an 
exultant  grin,  but  at  a  sign  from  Dr.  Marvin  concealed  his  tro- 
phies. As  soon  as  he  had  a  chance,  however,  he  gave  Burt  two 
rattles,  one  having  twelve  and  the  other  fourteen  joints,  thus 
proving  the  fear,  that  the  mate  of  the  snake  first  killed  was  not 
far  off,  to  be  well  grounded.  At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  they 
met  Mr.  Hargrove,  driving  rapidly.  He  explained  that  his 
barometer  and  the  indications  of  a  storm  had  alarmed  him  also, 


354  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY, 

and  that  he  had  come  for  his  daughter  and  Fred.  Nothing 
was  said  of  Miss  Hargrove's  recent  peril  in  the  brief,  cordial 
parting.  Her  eyes  and  Burt's  met  almost  involuntarily  as  she 
was  driven  away,  and  he  was  deeply  perturbed. 

The  face  of  Nature  was  also  clouding  fast,  and  she  was  sigh- 
ing and  moaning  as  if  she,  too,  dreaded  the  immediate  future. 


SUMMER'S   WEEPING  FAREWELL.  355 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

SUMMER'S  WEEPING  FAREWELL. 

NATURE  was  at  last  awakening  from  her  long,  death-like 
repose  with  an  energy  that  was  startling.  The  thin  skir- 
mish-line of  vapor  was  followed  by  cloudy  squadrons,  and  before 
sunset  great  masses  of  mist  were  pouring  over  Storm  King,  sug- 
gesting that  the  Atlantic  had  taken  the  drought  in  hand,  and 
meant  to  see  what  it  could  do.  The  wind  mourned  and 
shrieked  about  the  house,  as  if  trouble,  and  not  relief,  were 
coming.  In  spite  of  the  young  moon,  the  night  grew  intensely 
dark.  The  dash  of  rain  was  expected  every  moment,  but  it  did 
not  come. 

Amy  thought  with  a  shudder  of  their  desolate  camping- 
ground.  Time  must  pass  before  pleasant  associations  could  be 
connected  with  it.  The  intense  darkness,  the  rush  and  roar  of 
the  coming  storm,  the  agony,  the  death  that  might  have  occurred 
there,  were  now  uppermost  in  her  mind.  She  had  found  an 
opportunity  to  ask  Webb  questions  similar  to  those  of  Miss 
Hargrove,  and  he  had  given  Burt  full  credit  for  taking  a  fearful 
risk.  A  woman  loves  courage  in  the  abstract,  and  when  it  is 
shown  in  behalf  of  herself  or  those  whom  she  loves,  he  who  has 
manifested  it  becomes  heroic.  But  her  homage  troubled  Burt, 
who  was  all  at  sea,  uncertain  of  himself,  of  the  future,  of  almost 
everything,  but  not  quite  uncertain  as  to  Miss  Hargrove. 
There  was  something  in  her  look  when  they  first  met  after  their 
common  peril  that  went  straight  to  his  deepest  consciousness. 
He  had  before  received,  with  not  a  little  complacency,  glances 


356  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

of  preference,  but  none  like  that,  in  which  a  glimpse  of  feeling, 
deep  and  strong,  had  been  revealed  in  a  moment  of  weakness. 
The  thought  of  it  moved  him  far  more  profoundly  than  the  re- 
membrance of  his  danger.  Indeed,  he  scarcely  thought  of  that, 
except  as  it  was  associated  with  a  girl  who  now  might  have 
been  dead  or  dying,  and  who,  by  a  glance,  had  seemed  to  say, 
"  What  you  saved  is  yours." 

If  this  were  true  it  was  indeed  a  priceless,  overwhelming  gift, 
and  he  was  terrified  at  himself  as  he  found  how  his  whole 
nature  was  responding.  He  also  knew  that  it  was  not  in  his 
frank,  impetuous  spirit  to  disguise  deep  feeling.  Should  Miss 
Hargrove  control  his  heart,  he  feared  that  all  would  eventually 
know  it,  as  they  had  speedily  discovered  his  other  little  affairs. 
And  little,  indeed,  they  now  seemed  to  him,  relating  to  girls  as 
immature  as  himself.  Some  had  since  married,  others  were 
engaged,  "  and  none  ever  lost  their  appetites,"  he  concluded, 
with  a  grim  smile. 

But  he  could  not  thus  dismiss  the  past  so  far  as  Amy  was 
concerned,  the  orphan  girl  in  his  own  home  to  whom  he  had 
promised  fealty.  What  would  be  his  feeling  towards  another 
man  who  had  promised  so  much  and  had  proved  fickle  ?  What 
would  the  inmates  of  his  own  home  say  ?  What  would  even  his 
gentle  mother,  of  whom  he  had  made  a  confidante,  think  of 
him?  Would  not  a  look  of  pain,  or,  even  worse,  of  scorn, 
come  into  Amy's  eyes?  He  did  love  her  dearly;  he  re- 
spected her  still  more  as  the  embodiment  of  truth  and  delicacy. 
From  Miss  Hargrove's  manner  he  knew  that  Amy  had  never 
gossiped  about  him,  as  he  felt  sure  nine  tenths  of  his  acquaint- 
ances would  have  done.  He  also  believed  that  she  was  taking 
him  at  his  word,  like  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  that  she  was 
looking  forward  to  the  future  that  he  had  once  so  ardently  de- 
sired. The  past  had  taught  him  that  she  was  not  one  to  fall 
tumultuously  in  love,  but  rather  that  she  would  let  a  quiet  and 
steady  flame  kindle  in  her  heart,  to  last  through  life.  She  had 
proved  herself  above  hasty  and  resentful  jealousy,  but  she  had, 


SUMMER'S   WEEPING  FAREWELL.  357 

nevertheless,  warned  him  on  the  mountain,  and  had  received  the 
renewed  manifestations  of  his  loyalty  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Since  his  rescue  of  her  friend  in  the  morning  her  eyes  had  often 
sought  his  with  a  lustre  so  gentle  and  approving  that  he  felt 
guilty,  and  cursed  himself  for  a  fickle  wretch.  Cost  him  what 
it  might,  he  must  be  true  to  her. 

She,  little  divining  his  tragic  mood,  which,  with  the  whole 
force  of  his  will,  he  sought  to  disguise,  gave  him  an  affectionate 
good-night  kiss  as  she  said,  "  Dear  Burt,  how  happily  the  day 
has  ended,  after  all !  —  and  we  know  the  reason  why." 

"  Yes,  Burt,"  added  Webb ;  "  no  man  ever  did  a  braver  thing." 

His  father's  hearty  praise,  and  even  his  mother's  grateful  and 
almost  passionate  embrace,  only  added  to  his  deep  unrest.  As 
he  went  to  his  room  he  groaned,  "  If  they  only  knew  ! " 

After  very  little  and  troubled  sleep  he  awoke  on  the  following 
morning  depressed  and  exhausted.  Mental  distress  was  a  new 
experience,  and  he  showed  its  effects ;  but  he  made  light  of  it, 
as  the  result  of  over- excitement  and  fatigue.  He  felt  that 
Nature  harmonized  with  his  mood,  for  he  had  scarcely  ever 
looked  upon  a  gloomier  sky.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  no  rain  had 
fallen.  It  seemed  as  if  the  malign  spell  could  not  be  broken. 
The  wind  that  had  been  whirling  the  dust  in  clouds  all  night 
long  grew  fitful,  and  died  utterly  away,  while  the  parched  earth 
and  withered  herbage  appeared  to  look  at  the  mocking  clouds 
in  mute,  despairing  appeal.  How  could  they  be  so  near,  so 
heavy,  and  yet  no  rain  ?  The  air  was  sultry  and  lifeless.  Fall 
had  come,  but  no  autumn  days  as  yet.  Experienced  Mr.  Clif- 
ford looked  often  at  the  black,  lowering  sky,  and  predicted  that 
a  decided  change  was  at  hand. 

"  My  fear  is,"  he  added,  "  that  the  drought  may  be  followed 
by  a  deluge.  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  the  clouds  in  the 
southeast." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  gleam  of  lightning  shot  athwart  them, 
and  was  soon  followed  by  a  heavy  rumble  of  thunder.  It 
seemed  that  the  electricity,  or,  rather,  the  concussion  of  the  air, 


358  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

precipitated  the  dense  vapor  into  water,  for  within  a  few 
moments  down  came  the  rain  in  torrents.  As  the  first  great 
drops  struck  the  roads  the  dust  flew  up  as  if  smitten  by  a  blow, 
and  then,  with  scarcely  any  interval,  the  gutters  and  every  in- 
cline were  full  of  tawny  rills,  that  swelled  and  grew  with  hoarser 
and  deeper  murmurs,  until  they  combined  in  one  continuous 
roar  with  the  downfall  from  clouds  that  seemed  scarcely  able  to 
lift  themselves  above  the  tree-tops.  The  lightning  was  not 
vivid,  but  often  illumined  the  obscurity  with  a  momentary  dull 
red  glow,  and  thunder  muttered  and  growled  in  the  distance 
almost  without  cessation. 

The  drought  had  been  depressing.  To  Amy  its  gloomy,  por- 
tentous ending  was  even  more  so.  The  arid  noonday  heat  and 
glare  of  preceding  days  had  given  place  to  a  twilight  so  un- 
natural that  it  had  almost  the  awe-inspiring  effect  of  an  eclipse. 
The  hitherto  brazen  sky  seemed  to  have  become  an  overhang- 
ing reservoir  from  which  poured  a  vertical  cataract.  The 
clouds  drooped  so  heavily,  and  were  so  black,  that  they  gave 
an  impression  of  impending  solid  masses  that  might  fall  at  any 
moment  with  crushing  weight.  Within  an  hour  the  beds  of 
streams  long  dry  were  full  and  overflowing. 

In  spite  of  remonstrances  Webb  put  on  a  rubber  suit,  and 
went  to  look  after  some  little  bridges  on  the  place.  He  soon 
returned,  and  said,  "  If  this  keeps  up  until  morning,  there  will 
be  a  dozen  bridges  lacking  in  our  region.  I've  tried  to  anchor 
some  of  our  little  affairs  by  putting  heavy  stones  on  them,  so 
that  the  water  will  pass  over  instead  of  sweeping  them  away. 
It  makes  one  think  that  the  flood  was  no  myth." 

To  the  general  relief,  the  rain  slackened  in  the  late  afternoon, 
and  soon  ceased.  The  threatening  pall  of  clouds  lifted  a  little, 
and  in  rocky  channels  on  the  mountains  the  dull  gleam  of  rush- 
ing water  could  be  seen.  From  every  side  its  voice  was  heard, 
the  scale  running  up,  from  the  gurgle  in  the  pipes  connected 
with  the  roof,  to  the  roar  of  the  nearest  large  stream.  The 
drought  was  truly  broken. 


WEEPING  FAKE  WELL. 


359 


As  the  day  advanced  Burt  had  grown  very  restless.  Amy 
watched  him  curiously.  The  long  day  of  imprisonment  had 
given  time  for  thought,  and  a  review  of  the  past  novel  and  ex- 
citing experiences.  She  had  not  seen  the  glances  from  Miss 


STORMY    WEATHER. 


Hargrove  which  had  suggested  so  much  to  Burt,  but  she  had 
long  since  perceived  that  her  friend  greatly  enjoyed  his  society. 
Had  she  loved  him  she  would  have  seen  far  more.  If  this  in- 
terest had  been  shown  in  Webb,  she  would  have  understood 


360  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY, 

herself  and  Miss  Hargrove  also  much  better.  Pre-occupicd  as 
she  was  by  her  sense  of  loss  and  shortcoming  produced  by 
Webb's  apparent  absorption  in  pursuits  which  she  did  not 
share,  the  thought  had  repeatedly  occurred  to  her  that  Miss 
Hargrove's  interest  in  Burt  might  be  more  than  passing  and 
friendly.  If  this  were  true,  she  was  sure  the  event  of  the  pre- 
ceding day  must  develop  and  deepen  it  greatly.  And  now 
Burl's  manner,  his  fils  of  absent-mindedness,  during  which  he 
slared  at  vacancy,  awakened  surmises  also.  "Where  are  his 
thoughls?"  she  queried,  and  she  resolved  lo  find  oul. 

"  Burt,"  she  said,  arousing  him  from  one  of  the  lapses  into 
deep  thoughl  which  alternated  with  his  restless  pacings  and 
ralher  forced  gayely,  "  il  has  slopped  raining.  I  ihink  you 
oughl  lo  ride  over  and  see  how  Gerlrude  is.  I  feel  real  anxious 
about  her." 

His  face  lighled  up  wilh  eagerness.  "  Do  you  Iruly  ihink  I 
oughl  lo  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly,  and  il  would  be  a  favor  to  me  also,"  she  added. 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly  for  a  moment,  but  Ihere  was 
nolhing  in  her  friendly  expression  to  excite  his  fears. 

"  Very  well,"  he  Iried  lo  say  quietly.  "  I'll  go.  A  swift  gal- 
lop would  do  me  good,  I  believe." 

"  Of  course  il  will,  and  so  will  a  walk  brighlen  me  up.  I'm 
going  oul  lo  see  Ihe  brook." 

"  Lei  me  go  wilh  you,"  he  exclaimed,  wilh  an  eagerness  loo 
pronounced. 

"No,  please.  I'd  ralher  hear  how  Gerlrude  is;"  and  she 
wenl  to  her  room  lo  prepare  for  her  walk,  smiling  a  lillle  billerly 
as  she  mused  :  "  I  now  know  where  his  ihoughls  were.  I  musl 
be  lacking  indeed.  Nol  only  brolher  Webb,  bul  also  lover  Burl, 
has  grown  weary  of  me.  I  can'l  enlerlain  eilher  of  ihem  through 
one  rainy  day."  From  her  window  she  saw  Burt  riding  away 
wilh  a  promplness  lhal  brought  again  the  smile  rarely  seen  on 
her  fair  features.  In  her  lighl  rubber  suil,  she  slarled  on  her 
ramble,  her  face  almosl  as  clouded  as  Ihe  sky.  Another  had 


SUMMER'S   WEEPING  FAREWELL.  361 

been  on  the  watch  also,  and  Webb  soon  joined  her,  with  the 
question,  "  May  I  not  go  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  fear  it  will  take  too  much  of  your  time,"  she  said,  in 
tones  that  were  a  little  constrained. 


IN   THE   GLOAMING. 


He  saw  that  she  was  depressed.  He,  too,  had  been  inter- 
preting Burt,  and-  guessed  his  destination  as  he  galloped  away. 
His  love  for  Amy  was  so  deep  that  in  a  generous  impulse  of 
self-forgetfulness  he  was  sorry  for  her,  and  sought  to  cheer  her, 
and  make  what  poor  amends  he  could  for  Burt's  absence,  and 


362  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

all  that  it  foreboded.  "  Since  you  don't  say  outright  that  I  can't 
go,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I'll  venture  ;  "  and  then,  in  a  quiet,  genial 
way,  he  began  to  talk  about  the  storm  and  its  effects.  She  would 
not  have  believed  that  even  remarkable  weather  could  be  made 
so  interesting  a  topic  as  it  soon  proved.  Before  long  they  stood 
upon  the  bank,  and  saw  a  dark  flood  rushing  by  where  but  yes- 
terday had  trickled  a  little  rill.  Now  it  would  carry  away  horse 
and  rider,  should  they  attempt  to  ford  it,  and  the  fields  beyond 
were  covered  with  water. 

"  I  don't  like  these  violent  changes,"  said  Amy.  "  Tenny- 
son's brook,  that '  goes  on  forever,'  is  more  to  my  taste  than  one 
like  this,  that  almost  stops,  and  then  breaks  out  into  a  passion- 
ate, reckless  torrent." 

"  It's  the  nature  of  this  brook ;  you  should  not  blame  it,"  he 
answered.  "  But  see,  it's  falling  rapidly  already." 

"  Oh,  certainly ;  nothing  lasts,"  and  she  turned  away  abruptly. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sister  Amy,"  he  replied,  with  strong,  quiet 
emphasis. 

The  early  twilight  deepened  around  them,  and  gloomy  night 
came  on  apace,  but  before  Amy  re-entered  the  house  his  unself- 
ish efforts  were  rewarded.  Burt's  threatened  disloyalty  appar- 
ently had  lost  its  depressing  influence.  Some  subtile  re-assuring 
power  had  been  at  work,  and  the  clouds  passed  from  her  face, 
if  not  from  the  sky. 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  363 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

FATHER   AND   DAUGHTER. 

THAT  sombre  day  would  ever  be  a  memorable  one  to  Miss 
Hargrove.  Nature  seemed  weeping  passionately  over  the 
summer  that  had  gone,  with  all  its  wealth  of  beauty  and  life. 
She  knew  that  her  girlhood  had  gone  with  it.  She  had  cau- 
tioned her  brother  to  say  nothing  of  her  escape  on  the  previous 
day,  for  she  was  too  unnerved  to  go  over  the  scene  again  that 
night,  and  meet  her  father's  questioning  eyes.  She  wanted  to 
be  alone  first  and  face  the  truth ;  and  this  she  had  done  in  no 
spirit  of  weak  self-deception.  The  shadow  of  the  unknown  had 
fallen  upon  her,  and  in  its  cold  gray  light  the  glitter  and  tinsel 
of  the  world  had  faded,  but  unselfish  human  love  had  grown 
more  luminous.  The  imminence  of  death  had  kindled  rather 
than  quenched  it.  It  was  seen  to  be  something  intrinsically 
precious,  something  that  might  survive  even  the  deadliest 
poison. 

Her  father  was  disposed  to  regard  Burt  as  one  who  looked 
upon  life  in  the  light  of  a  pleasure  excursion,  and  who  might 
never  take  it  seriously.  His  laugh  hereafter  could  never  be  so 
light  and  careless  to  her  but  that,  like  a  minor  key,  would  run 
the  thought,  "  He  risked  his  life  for  me  ;  he  might  have  died 
for  me." 

Her  dark,  full  eyes,  the  warm  blood  that  her  thoughts  brought 
into  her  face  even  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  did  not  belie 
her  nature,  which  was  intense,  and  capable  of  a  strong  and  an 
abiding  passion  when  once  kindled. 


364  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

Mr.  Hargrove  had  watched  her  with  the  deepest  solicitude 
on  her  return,  and  he  felt  rather  than  saw  the  change  that  had 
taken  place  in  his  idol.  She  had  pleaded  fatigue,  and  retired 
early.  In  the  morning  she  was  again  conscious  of  his  half-ques- 
tioning scrutiny,  and  when  he  went  to  his  study  she  followed, 
and  told  him  what  had  occurred.  He  grew  very  pale,  and  drew 
a  long,  deep  breath.  Then,  as  if  mastered  by  a  strong  impulse, 
he  clasped  her  to  his  heart,  and  said,  in  trembling  tones,  "  Oh, 
Trurie,  if  I  had  lost  you  !  " 

"  I  fear  you  would  have  lost  me,  papa,  had  it  not  been  for 
Mr.  Clifford." 

He  paced  the  room  for  a  few  moments  in  agitation,  and  at 
last  stopped  before  her  and  said  :  "  Perhaps  in  a  sense  I  am  to 
lose  you  after  all.  Has  Mr.  Clifford  spoken?" 

" No,  papa;  he  has  only  risked  his  life  to  save  mine." 

"  You  are  very  grateful?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  not  think  I  underestimate  his  act,  Trurie ;  but,  believe 
me,  if  he  should  speak  now  or  soon,  you  are  in  no  condition  to 
answer  him." 

She  smiled  incredulously. 

"  He  did  what  any  man  would  do  for  a  woman  in  peril.  He 
has  no  right  to  claim  such  an  immense  reward." 

"  Before  I  went  to  the  mountains  I  said  I  was  no  longer  a 
child  ;  but  I  was,  compared  with  what  I  am  now.  It  seems  to 
me  that  feeling,  experience,  more  than  years,  measures  our  age. 
I  am  a  woman  to-day,  one  who  has  been  brought  so  near  the 
future  world  that  I  have  been  taught  how  to  value  what  may  be 
ours  now.  I  have  learned  how  to  value  you  and  your  unselfish 
love  as  I  never  did  before.  Mr.  Clifford  will  not  speak  very 
soon,  if  he  ever  does,  and  I  have  not  yet  decided  upon  my  an- 
swer. Should  it  be  favorable,  rest  assured  more  than  gratitude 
will  prompt  me ;  and  also  be  assured  you  would  not  lose  me. 
Could  I  not  be  more  to  you  were  I  happy  than  if  I  went 
through  life  with  the  feeling  that  I  had  missed  my  chance?" 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  365 

"  I  fear  your  mother  would  never  give  her  consent  to  so 
unworldly  a  choice,"  he  said,  with  a  troubled  brow. 

"  I've  yet  to  be  convinced  that  it  would  be  such  a  choice. 
It's  scarcely  unworldly  to  make  the  most  and  the  best  of  the 
world  one  is  in,  and  mamma  must  permit  me  to  judge  for  my- 
self, as  she  chose  for  herself.  I  shall  never  marry  any  one  but 
a  gentleman,  and  one  who  can  give  me  a  home.  Have  I  not  a 
right  to  prefer  a  home  to  an  establishment,  papa?" 

He  looked  at  her  long  and  searchingly,  and  she  met  his  scru- 
tiny with  a  grave  and  gentle  dignity.  "  I  suppose  we  must 
submit  to  the  inevitable,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  It  seems  but  the  other  day  that  you  were  a  baby  on  my 
knee,"  he  began,  sadly ;  "  and  now  you  are  drifting  far  away." 

"  No,  papa,  there  shall  be  no  drifting  whatever.  I  shall  marry, 
if  ever,  one  whom  I  have  learned  to  love  according  to  Nature's 
simple  laws  —  one  to  whom  I  can  go  without  effort  or  calcula- 
tion. I  could  give  my  heart,  and  be  made  rich  indeed  by  the 
gift.  I  couldn't  invest  it ;  and  if  I  did,  no  one  would  be  more 
sorry  than  you  in  the  end." 

"  I  should  indeed  be  more  than  sorry  if  I  ever  saw  you  un- 
happy," he  said,  after  another  thoughtful  pause ;  then  added, 
shaking  his  head,  "  I've  seen  those  who  gave  their  hearts  even 
more  disappointed  with  life  than  those  who  took  counsel  of 
prudence." 

"  I  shall  take  counsel  of  prudence,  and  of  you  too,  papa." 

"  I  think  it  is  as  I  feared  —  you  have  already  given  your 
heart." 

She  did  not  deny  it.  Before  leaving  him  she  pleaded  :  "  Do 
not  make  much  of  my  danger  to  mamma.  She  is  nervous,  and 
not  over-fond  of  the  country  at  best.  You  know  that  a  good 
many  people  survive  in  the  country,"  she  concluded,  with  a 
smile  that  was  so  winning  and  disarming  that  he  shook  his  head 
at  her  as  he  replied  : 

"  Well,  Trurie,  I  foresee  what  a  lovingly  obstinate  little  girl 


366  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

you  are  likely  to  prove.  I  think  I  may  as  well  tell  you  first  as 
last  that  you  may  count  on  me  in  all  that  is  fairly  rational.  If, 
with  my  years  and  experience,  I  can  be  so  considerate,  may  I 
hope  that  you  will  be  also?" 

Her  answer  was  re-assuring,  and  she  went  to  tell  her  mother 
She  had  been  forestalled.  Fred  was  quite  as  confidential  with 
his  mother  as  she  with  her  father,  and  the  boy  had  been  wild 
to  horrify  Mrs.  Hargrove  by  an  account  of  his  sister's  adven- 
ture. The  injunction  laid  upon  him  had  been  only  for  the 
previous  evening,  and  Gertrude  found  her  mother  almost 
hysterical  over  the  affair,  and  less  inclined  to  commend  Burt 
than  to  blame  him  as  the  one  who  had  led  her  daughter  into 
such  "  wild,  harum-scarum  experiences."  "  It's  always  the 
way,"  she  exclaimed,  "when  one  goes  out  of  one's  own  natural 
associations  in  life." 

"  I've  not  been  out  of  my  natural  associations,"  Gertrude 
answered,  hotly.  "  The  Cliffords  are  as  well-bred  and  respect- 
able as  we  are  ;  "  and  she  went  to  her  room. 

It  was  a  long,  dismal  day  for  her,  but,  as  she  had  said  to 
her  father,  she  would  not  permit  herself  to  drift.  Her  nature 
was  too  positive  for  idle,  sentimental  dreaming.  Feeling  that 
she  was  approaching  one  of  the  crises  of  her  life,  she  faced  it 
resolutely  and  intelligently.  She  went  over  the  past  weeks  from 
the  time  she  had  first  met  Burt  under  the  Gothic  willow  arch, 
and  tried  to  analyze  not  'only  the  power  he  had  over  her,  but 
also  the  man  himself.  "  I  have  claimed  to  papa  that  I  am  a 
woman,  and  I  should  act  like  one,"  she  thought.  A  few  things 
grew  plain.  Her  interest  in  Burt  had  been  a  purely  natural 
growth,  the  unsought  result  of  association  with  one  who  had 
proved  congenial.  He  was  so  handsome,  so  companionable, 
so  vital  with  spirit  and  mirthfulness,  that  his  simple  presence 
was  exhilarating,  and  he  had  won  his  influence  like  the  sun  in 
spring-time.  Had  he  the  higher  qualities  of  manhood,  those 
that  could  sustain  her  in  the  inevitable  periods  when  life  would 
be  no  laughing  matter?  Could  he  meet  the  winter  of  life  as 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  367 

well  as  the  summer?  She  felt  that  she  scarcely  knew  him  well 
enough  to  be  sure  of  this,  but  she  was  still  sufficiently  young 
and  romantic  to  think,  "  If  he  should  ever  love  me  as  I  can 
love  him,  I  could  bring  out  the  qualities  that  papa  fears  are 
lacking."  His  courage  seemed  an  earnest  of  all  that  she  could 
desire. 

Amy's  feeling  towards  him,  and  the  question  whether  he  had 
ever  regarded  her  in  another  light  than  that  of  a  sister,  troubled 
her  the  most.  Amy's  assurance  of  implicit  trust,  and  her  prom- 
ise to  deserve  it,  appeared  to  stand  directly  in  her  path,  and 
before  that  stormy  day  closed  she  had  reached  the  calmness 
of  a  fixed  resolution.  "  If  Amy  loves  him,  and  he  has  given 
her  reason  to  do  so,  I  shall  not  come  between  them,  cost  me 
what  it  may.  I'll  do  without  happiness  rather  than  snatch  it 
from  a  friend  who  has  not  only  spoken  her  trust,  but  proved 
it." 

Therefore,  although  her  heart  gave  a  great  bound  as  she  saw 
Burt  riding  towards  the  house  in  the  late  afternoon,  she  went 
to  her  father  and  said  :  "  Mr.  Clifford  is  coming.  I  wish  you 
would  be  present  during  his  call." 

The  young  fellow  was  received  cordially,  and  Mr.  Hargrove 
acknowledged  his  indebtedness  so  feelingly  that  Burt  flushed 
like  a  girl,  and  was  greatly  embarrassed.  He  soon  recovered 
himself,  however,  and  chatted  in  his  usual  easy  and  spirited 
way.  Before  he  left  he  asked,  hesitatingly,  "  Would  you  like  a 
souvenir  of  our  little  episode  yesterday?"  and  took  from  his 
pocket  the  rattles  of  the  snake  he  had  killed. 

"  It  was  not  a  little  episode,"  Gertrude  replied,  gravely.  "  I 
shall  indeed  value  the  gift,  for  it  will  remind  me  that  I  have  a 
friend  who  did  not  count  the  cost  in  trying  to  help  me." 

Impetuous  words  rose  to  Burt's  lips,  but  he  checked  them 
in  time.  Trembling  for  his  resolutions,  he  soon  took  his 
departure,  and  rode  homeward  in  deeper  disquiet  than  he  had 
ever  known.  He  gave  Amy  her  friend's  messages,  and  he  also, 
in  spite  of  himself,  afforded  her  a  clearer  glimpse  of  what  was 


368  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

passing  in  his  mind  than  she  had  received  before.  "  I  might 
have  learned  to  love  him  in  time,  I  suppose,"  she  thought,  bit- 
terly, "  but  it's  impossible  now.  I  shall  build  my  future  on  no 
such  uncertain  foundation,  and  I  shall  punish  him  a  little  too, 
for  it's  time  he  had  a  lesson." 


DISQUIET  WITHIN  AI^D    WITHOUT.          369 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

DISQUIET  WITHIN  AND   WITHOUT. 

AMY  would  scarcely  have  been  human  had  she  felt  other- 
wise, for  it  appeared  that  Burt  was  in  a  fair  way  to  inflict 
a  slight  that  would  touch  the  pride  of  the  gentlest  nature. 
During  her  long  residence  abroad  Amy  had  in  a  general  and 
unthinking  way  adopted  some  English  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
marriage.  Burt  had  at  first  required  what  was  unnatural  and 
repugnant,  and  she  had  resented  the  demand  that  she  should 
pass  from  an  age  and  a  state  of  feeling  slightly  removed  from 
childhood  to  relations  for  which  she  was  not  ready.  When  he 
had  sensibly  recognized  his  error,  and  had  appeared  content  to 
wait  patiently  and  considerately,  she  had  tacitly  assented  to  his 
hopes  and  those  of  his  parents.  Her  love  and  gratitude  towards 
the  latter  influenced  her  powerfully,  and  she  saw  no  reason  why 
she  should  disappoint  them.  But  she  was  much  too  high- 
spirited  a  girl  to  look  with  patience  on  any  wavering  in  Burt. 
She  had  not  set  her  heart  on  him  or  sought  to  be  more  to  him 
than  to  a  brother,  and  if  he  wished  for  more  he  must  win  and 
hold  the  right  by  undoubted  loyalty.  The  fact  that  Amy  had 
been  brought  into  the  Clifford  family  as  a  daughter  and  sister 
had  not  cheated  Nature  a  moment,  as  both  Burt  and  Webb 
had  proved.  She  was  not  their  sister,  and  had  unconsciously 
evoked  from  each  of  the  young  men  a  characteristic  regard. 
Burt  must  not  be  judged  too  harshly.  He  had  to  contend  with 
a  temperament  not  uncommon  —  one  that  renders  its  possessor 
highly  susceptible  to  the  beauty  and  fascination  of  women. 


370  NATURE;  s  SERIAL  STORY. 

He  was  as  far  removed  from  the  male  flirt  genus  as  sincerity  is 
from  falsehood  ;  but  his  passion  for  Amy  had  been  more  like 
a  manifestation  of  a  trait  than  a  strong  individual  preference 
based  on  mutual  fitness  and  helpfulness.  Miss  Hargrove  was 
more  truly  his  counterpart.  She  could  supplement  the  weak- 
nesses and  defects  of  his  character  more  successfully  than  Amy, 
and  in  a  vague  way  he  felt  this.  With  all  the  former's  vivacity 
there  was  much  reserve  strength  and  magnetism.  She  was 
unusually  gifted  with  will  power,  and  having  once  gained  an 
influence  over  a  person,  she  would  have,  as  agents  to  maintain 
it,  not  only  her  beauty,  but  tact,  keen  insight,  and  a  very  quick 
intelligence.  Although  true  herself,  she, was  by  no  means  un- 
sophisticated, and  having  once  comprehended  Burt's  character, 
she  would  have  the  power,  possessed  by  few  others,  to  make 
the  most  of  him. 

Amy  was  nearer  to  nature.  She  would  first  attract  uncon- 
sciously, like  a  rare  and  beautiful  flower,  and  the  loveliness  and 
fragrance  of  her  life  would  be  undying.  Burt  had  felt  her 
charm,  and  responded  most  decisively ;  but  the  tranquil  regard 
of  her  unawakened  heart  had  little  power  to  retain  and  deepen 
his  feeling.  She  bloomed  on  at  his  side,  sweet  to  him,  sweet 
to  all.  In  Miss  Hargrove's  dark  eyes  lurked  a  stronger  spell, 
and  he  almost  dared  to  believe  that  they  had  revealed  to  him 
a  love  of  which  he  began  to  think  Amy  was  not  capable.  On 
the  generous  young  fellow,  whose  intentions  were  good,  this 
fact  would  have  very  great  influence,  and  in  preserving  her 
supremacy  Miss  Hargrove  would  also  be  able  to  employ  not  a 
little  art  and  worldly  wisdom. 

The  events  that  are  most  desired  do  not  always  happen, 
however,  and  poor  Burt  felt  that  he  had  involved  himself  in 
complications  of  which  he  saw  no  solution ;  while  Amy's  pur- 
pose to  give  him  "  a  lesson  "  promised  anything  but  relief. 
Her  plan  involved  scarcely  any  change  in  her  manner  towards 
him.  She  would  simply  act  as  if  she  believed  all  that  he  had 
said,  and  take  it  for  granted  that  his  hopes  for  the  future  were 


DISQUIET   in  THIN  AXD    M'lTHOUT.  371 

unchanged.  She  proposed,  however,  to  maintain  this  attitude 
only  long  enough  to  teach  him  that  it  is  not  wise,  to  say  the 
least,  to  declare  undying  devotion  too  often  to  different  ladies. 

The  weather  during  the  night  and  early  on  the  following 
morning  was  puzzling.  It  might  be  that  the  storm  was  passing, 
and  that  the  ragged  clouds  which  still  darkened  the  sky  were 
the  rear-guard  or  the  stragglers  that  were  following  the  sluggish 
advance  of  its  main  body ;  or  it  might  be  that  there  was  a 
partial  break  in  Nature's  forces,  and  that  heavier  cloud-masses 
were  still  to  come.  Mr.  Clifford  inclined  to  the  latter  view. 
"  Old  Storm  King  is  still  shrouded,"  he  said  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  "and  this  , heavy,  sultry  air  does  not  indicate  clearing 
weather."  * 

Events  soon  confirmed  his  opinion.  Nature  seemed  bent  on 
repeating  the  programme .  of  the  preceding  day,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  showing  how  much  more  she  could  do  on  the  same 
line  of  action.  There  was  no  steady  wind  from  any  quarter. 
Converging  or  conflicting  currents  in  the  upper  air  may  have 
brought  heavy  clouds  together  in  the  highlands  to  the  south- 
west, for  although  the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily,  it  could  not 
account  for  the  unprecedented  rise  of  the  streams.  In  little 
over  an  hour  there  was  a  continuous  roar  of  rushing  water. 
Burt,  restless  and  almost  reckless,  went  out  to  watch  the  floods. 
He  soon  returned  to  say  that  every  bridge  on  the  place  had 
gone,  and  that  what  had  been  dry  and  stony  channels  twenty- 
four  hours  before  were  now  filled  with  resistless  torrents. 

Webb  also  put  on  his  rubber  suit,  and  they  went  down  the 
main  street  towards  the  landing.  This  road,  as  it  descended 
through  a  deep  valley  to  the  river,  was  bordered  by  a  stream 
that  drained  for  some  miles  the  northwestern  slope  of  the 
mountains.  For  weeks  its  rocky  bed  had  been  dry ;  now  it 
was  filled  with  a  river  yellow  as  the  Tiber.  One  of  the  main 
bridges  across  it  was  gone,  and  half  of  the  road  in  one  place 
had  been  scooped  out  and  carried  away  by  the  furious  waters. 
People  were  removing  their  household  goods  out  into  the  verti- 


3/2  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

cal  deluge  lest  they  and  all  they  had  should  be  swept  into  the 
river  by  the  torrent  that  was  above  their  doorsteps.  The  main 
steamboat  wharf,  at  which  the  Powell  had  touched  but  a  few 
hours  before,  was  scarcely  passable  with  boats,  so  violent  was 
the  current  that  poured  over  it.  The  rise  had  been  so  sudden 
that  people  could  scarcely  realize  it,  and  strange  incidents 
had  occurred.  A  horse  attached  to  a  wagon  had  been  stand- 
ing in  front  of  a  store.  A  vivid  flash  of  lightning  startled  the 
animal,  and  he  broke  away,  galloped  up  a  side  street  to  the  spot 
where  the  bridge  had  been,  plunged  in,  was  swept  down,  and 
scarcely  more  than  a  minute  had  elapsed  before  he  was  back 
within  a  rod  or  two  of  his  starting-point,  crushed  and  dead. 

Webb  soon  returned.  He  had  noticed  that  Amy's  eyes  had 
followed  him  wistfully,  and  almost  reproachfully,  as  he  went 
out.  Nature's  mood  was  one  to  inspire  awe,  and  something 
akin  to  dread,  in  even  his  own  mind.  She  appeared  to  have 
lost  or  to  have  relaxed  her  hold  upon  her  forces.  It  seemed 
that  the  gathered  stores  of  moisture  from  the  dry,  hot  weeks 
of  evaporation  were  being  thrown  recklessly  away,  regardless  of 
consequences.  There  was  no  apparent  storm-centre,  passing 
steadily  to  one  quarter  of  the  heavens,  but  on  all  sides  the 
lightning  would  leap  from  the  clouds,  while  mingling  with  the 
nearer  and  louder  peals  was  the  heavy  and  continuous  monotone 
•from  flashes  below  the  horizon. 

He  was  glad  he  had  returned,  for  he  found  Amy  pale  and 
nervous  indeed.  Johnnie  had  been  almost  crying  with  terror, 
and  had  tremblingly  asked  her  mother  if  Noah's  flood  could 
come  again. 

"  No,"  said  Maggie,  confidently.  "  If  there  was  to  be  an- 
other flood,  grandpa  would  have  been  told  to  build  an  ark ; " 
and  this  assurance  had  appeared  so  obviously  true  that  the 
child's  fears  were  quieted.  Even  Leonard's  face  was  full  of 
gloom  and  foreboding,  when  the  children  were  not  present,  as. 
he  looked  out  on  flooded  fields,  and  from  much  experience 
estimated  the  possible  injury  to  the  farm  and  the  town.  Mr. 


DISQUIET  WITHIN  AND    WITHOUT.          373 

and  Mrs.  Clifford  were  quiet  and  serene.  They  had  attained  a 
peace  which  was  not  easily  disturbed,  and  the  old  gentleman 
remarked :  "  I  have  seen  a  worse  storm  even  in  this  vicinity. 
You  must  remember  it,  Leonard." 

"  But  this  deluge  isn't  over,"  was  the  reply.     "  It  seems  a 


A   STORMY    DAY. 

tremendous  re-action  from  the  drought,  and  where  it  will  end  it 
is  hard  to  tell,  unless  this  steady  downpouring  slackens  soon." 

Leonard's  fears  were  not  realized,  however.  The  unusual 
and  tropical  manifestations  of  the  storm  at  last  ceased,  and  by 
night  the  rain  fell  softly  and  gently,  as  if  Nature  were  penitent 
over  her  wild  passion.  The  results  of  it,  however,  were  left  in 
all  directions.  Many  roads  were  impassable ;  scores  of  bridges 


374  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

were  gone.  The  passengers  from  the  evening  boats  were  landed 
on  a  wharf  partially  submerged,  and  some  were  taken  in  boats 
to  a  point  whence  they  could  reach  their  carriages. 

In  the  elements'  disquiet  Burt  had  found  an  excuse  for  his 
own,  and  he  had  remained  out  much  of  the  day.  He  had  not 
called  on  Miss  Hargrove  again,  but  had  ridden  far  enough  to 
learn  that  the  bridges  in  that  direction  were  safe.  All  the 
family  had  remonstrated  with  him  for  his  exposure,  and  Amy 
asked  him,  laughingly,  if  he  had  been  "  sitting  on  bridges  to 
keep  them  from  floating  away." 

"  You  are  growing  ironical,"  he  answered,  for  he  was  not  in 
an  amiable  mood,  and  he  retired  early. 


375 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 


IN  the  morning  Nature  appeared  to  have  forgotten  both  her 
passion  and  her  penitence,  and  smiled  serenely  over  the 
havoc  she  had  made,  as  if  it  were  of  no  consequence. 

Amy  said,  "  Let  us  take  the  strong  rockaway,  call  for  Miss 
Hargrove,  and  visit  some  of  the  streams  ;  "  and  she  noted  that 
Burt's  assent  was  too  undemonstrative  to  be  natural.  Maggie 
decided  to  go  also,  and  take  the  children,  while  Leonard  pro- 
posed to  devote  the  day  to  repairing  the  damage  to  the  farm, 
his  brothers  promising  to  aid  him  in  the  afternoon. 

When  at  last  the  party  left  their  carriage  at  one  of  the  en- 
trances of  Idlewild,  the  romantic  glen  made  so  famous  by  the 
poet  Willis,  a  stranger  might  have  thought  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  group  more  in  accord  with  the  open,  genial  sunshine. 
This  would  be  true  of  Maggie  and  the  children.  They  thought 
of  what  they  saw,  and  uttered  all  their  thoughts.  The  solution 
of  one  of  life's  deep  problems  had  come  to  Maggie,  but  not  to 
the  others,  and  such  is  the  nature  of  this  problem  that  its  .solu- 
tion can  usually  be  reached  only  by  long  and  hidden  processes. 
Not  one  of  the  four  young  people  was  capable  of  a  deliberately 
unfair  policy ;  all,  with  the  exception  of  Amy,  were  conscious 
whither  Nature  was  leading  them,  and  she  had  thoughts  also  of 
which  she  would  not  speak.  There  was  no  lack  of  truth  in  the 
party,  and  yet  circumstances  had  brought  about  a  larger  degree 
of  reticence  than  of  frankness.  To  borrow  an  illustration  from 
Nature,  who,  after  all,  was  to  blame  for  what  was  developing 
in  each  heart,  a  rapid  growth  of  root  was  taking  place,  and 


3/6  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

the  flower  and  fruit  would  inevitably  manifest  themselves  in 
time.  Miss  Hargrove  naturally  had  the  best  command  over 
herself.  She  had  taken  her  course,  and  would  abide  by  it,  no 
matter  what  she  might  suffer.  Burt  had  mentally  set  his  teeth, 
and  resolved  that  he  would  be  not  only  true  to  Amy,  but  also 
his  old  gay  self.  His  pride  was  now  in  the  ascendant.  Amy, 
however,  was  not  to  be  deceived,  and  her  intuition  made  it  clear 
that  he  was  no  longer  her  old  happy,  contented  comrade. 
But  she  was  too  proud  to  show  that  her  pride  was  wounded, 
and  appeared  to  be  her  former  self.  Webb,  as  usual,  was  quiet, 
observant,  and  not  altogether  hopeless.  And  so  this  merry 
party,  innocent,  notwithstanding  all  their  hidden  thoughts  about 
each  other,  went  down  into  the  glen,  and  saw  the  torrent  flash- 
ing where  the  sunlight  struck  it  through  the  overhanging  foliage. 
Half-way  down  the  ravine  there  was  a  rocky,  wooded  plateau 
from  which  they  had  a  view  of  the  flood  for  some  distance, 
as  it  came  plunging  towards  them  with  a  force  and  volume  that 
appeared  to  threaten  the  solid  foundations  of  the  place  on 
which  they  stood.  With  a  roar  of  baffled  fury  it  sheered  off 
to  the  left,  rushed  down  another  deep  descent,  and  disappeared 
from  view.  The  scene  formed  a  strange  blending  of  peace  and 
beauty  with  wild,  fierce  movement  and  uproar.  From  the  foli- 
age  above  and  around  them  came  a  soft,  slumberous  sound, 
evoked  by  the  balmy  wind  that  fanned  their  cheeks.  The 
ground  and  the  surface  of  the  torrent  were  flecked  with  waving, 
dancing  light  and  shade,  as  the  sunlight  filtered  through  in- 
numerable leaves,  on  some  of  which  a  faint  tinge  of  red  and 
gold  was  beginning  to  appear.  Beneath  and  through  all  thun- 
dered a  dark,  resistless  tide,  fit  emblem  of  lawless  passion  that, 
unchanged,  unrestrained  by  gentle  influences,  pursues  its  down- 
ward course  reckless  of  consequences.  Although  the  volume 
of  water  passing  beneath  their  feet  was  still  immense,  it  was 
evident  that  it  had  been  very  much  greater.  "  I  stood  here 
yesterday  afternoon,"  said  Burt,  "  and  then  the  sight  was  truly 
grand." 


IDLEIVILD.  377 

in  the  afternoon  ! "  exclaimed 


"Why,  it  was  raining   hard 
Miss  Hargrove. 

"  Burt  seemed  even  more  perturbed  than  the  weather  yester- 
day," Amy  remarked,  laughing.     "  He  was  out  nearly  all  the 


time.  We  were  alarmed  about  him,  fearing  lest  he  should  be 
washed  away,  dissolved,  or  something." 

"  Do  I  seem  utterly  quenched  this  morning?  "  he  asked,  in  a 
light  vein,  but  flushing  deeply. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  in  the  least,  and  yet  it's  strange,  after  so  much 
cold  water  has  fallen  on  you." 


378  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  One  is  not  quenched  by  such  trifles,"  he  replied,  a  little 
coldly. 

They  were  about  to  turn  away,  when  a  figure  sprang  out  upon 
a  rock,  far  up  the  stream,  in  the  least  accessible  part  of  the 
glen.  They  all  recognized  Mr.  Alvord,  as  he  stood  with  folded 
arms  and  looked  down  .on  the  flood  that  rushed  by  on  either 
side  of  him.  He  had  not  seen  them,  and  no  greeting  was  pos- 
sible above  the  sound  of  the  waters.  Webb  thought,  as  he 
carried  little  Ned  up  the  steep  path,  "  Perhaps,  in  the  mad  cur- 
rent, he  sees  the  counterpart  of  some  period  in  his  past." 

The  bridge  across  the  mouth  of  Idlewild  Brook  was  gone,  and 
they  next  went  to  the  landing.  The  main  wharf  was  covered 
with  large  stones  and  gravel,  the  debris  of  the  flood  that  had 
poured  over  it  from  the  adjacent  stream,  whose  natural  outlet 
had  been  wholly  inadequate.  Then  they  drove  to  the  wild  and 
beautiful  Mountainville  road,  that  follows  the  Moodna  Creek  for 
a  long  distance.  They  could  not  proceed  very  far,  however, 
for  they  soon  came  to  a  place  where  a  tiny  brook  had  passed 
under  a  wooden  bridge.  Now  there  was  a  great  yawning 
chasm.  Not  only  the  bridge,  but  tons  of  earth  were  gone. 
The  Moodna  Creek,  that  had  almost  ceased  to  flow  in  the 
drought,  had  become  a  tawny  river,  and  rushed  by  them  with 
a  sullen  roar.  Hanging  over  the  tide  was  an  old  dead  tree, 
on  which  was  perched  a  fish-hawk.  Even  while  they  were 
looking  at  him,  and  Burt  was  wishing  for  his  rifle,  the  bird 
swooped  downward,  plunged  into  the  stream  with  a  splash,  and 
rose  with  a  fish  in  his  talons.  It  was  an  admirable  exhibition 
of  fearlessness  and  power,  and  Burt  admitted  that  such  a  sports- 
man deserved  to  live. 


ECHOES  OF  A   PAST  STORM.  379 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

ECHOES   OF   A   PAST   STORM. 

MISS  HARGROVE  returned  to  dine  with  them,  and  as 
they  were  lingering  over  the  dessert  and  coffee  Webb 
remarked,  "  By  the  way,  I  think  the  poet  Willis  has  given  an 
account  of  a  similar,  or  even  greater,  deluge  in  this  region." 
He  soon  returned  from  the  library,  and  read  the  following 
extracts  :  " '  I  do  not  see  in  the  Tribune  or  other  daily  papers 
any  mention  of  an  event  which  occupies  a  whole  column  on  the 
outside  page  of  the  highest  mountain  above  West  Point.  An 
avalanche  of  earth  and  stone,  which  has  seamed  from  summit 
to  base  the  tall  bluff  that  abuts  upon  the  Hudson,  forming  a 
column  of  news  visible  for  twenty  miles,  has  reported  a  deluge 
we  have  had  —  a  report  a  mile  long,  and  much  broader  than 
Broadway.'  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  that's  the  flood  of  which  I 
spoke  yesterday.  It  was  very  local,  but  was  much  worse  than 
the  one  we  have  just  had.  It  occurred  in  August  of  '53.  I 
remember  now  that  Mr.  Willis  wrote  a  good  deal  about  the 
affair  in  his  letters  from  Idlewild.  What  else  does  he  say?" 

Webb,  selecting  here  and  there,  continued  to  read  f  "'  We 
have  had  a  deluge  in  the  valley  immediately  around  us  —  a 
deluge  which  is  shown  by  the  overthrown  farm  buildings,  the 
mills,  dams,  and  bridges  swept  away,  the  well-built  roads  cut 
into  chasms,  the  destruction  of  horses  and  cattle,  and  the  immi- 
nent peril  to  life.  It  occurred  on  the  evening  of  August  i,  and 
a  walk  to-day  down  the  valley  which  forms  the  thoroughfare  to 


380  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Cornwall  Landing  (or,  rather,  a  scramble  over  its  gulfs  in  the 
road,  its  upset  barns  and  sheds,  its  broken  vehicles,  drift  lum- 
ber, rocks,  and  rubbish)  would  impress  a  stranger  like  a  walk 
after  the  deluge  of  Noah. 

" '  The  flood  came  upon  us  with  scarce  half  an  hour's  notice. 
My  venerable  neighbor,  of  eighty  yea'rs  of  age,  who  had  passed 
his  life  here,  and  knows  well  the  workings  of  the  clouds  among 
the  mountains,  had  dined  with  us,  but  hastened  his  departure 
to  get  home  before  what  looked  like  a  shower,  crossing  with 
his  feeble  steps  the  stream  whose  strongest  bridge,  an  hour 
after,  was  swept  away.  Another  of  our  elderly  neighbors  had  a 
much  narrower  escape.  The  sudden  rush  of  water  alarmed 
him  for  the  safety  of  an  old  building  he  used  for  his  stable, 
which  stood  upon  the  bank  of  the  small  stream  usually  scarce 
noticeable  as  it  crosses  the  street  at  the  landing.  He  had 
removed  his  horse,  and  returned  to  unloose  a  favorite  dog,  but 
before  he  could  accomplish  it  the  building  fell.  The  single 
jump  with  which  he  endeavored  to  clear  himself  of  the  top- 
pling rafters  threw  him  into  the  torrent,  and  he  was  swept 
headlong  towards  the  gulf  which  it  had  already  torn  in  the 
wharf  on  the  Hudson.  His  son  and  two  others  plunged  in,  and 
succeeded  in  snatching  him  from  destruction.  Another  citizen 
was  riding  homeward,  when  the  solid  and  strongly  embanked 
road  was  swept  away  before  and  behind  him,  and  he  had  barely 
time  to  unhitch  his  horse  and  escape,  leaving  his  carriage 
islanded  between  the  chasms.  A  man  who  was  driving  with  his 
wife  and  child  along  our  own  wall  on  the  river-shore  had  a  yet 
more  fearful  escape  :  his  horse  suddenly  forced  to  swim,  and 
his  wagon  set  afloat,  and  carried  so  violently  against  a  tree  by 
the  swollen  current  of  Idlewild  Brook  that  he  and  his  precious 
load  were  thrown  into  the  water,  and  with  difficulty -reached 
the  bank  beyond.  A  party  of  children  who  were  out  huckle- 
berrying  on  the  mountain  were  separated  from  home  by  the 
swollen  brook,  and  one  of  them  was  nearly  drowned  in  vainly 
attempting  to  cross  it.  Their  parents  and  friends  were  out  all 


ECHOES  OF  A   PAST  STORM.  381 

night  in  search  of  them.  An  aged  farmer  and  his  wife,  who 
had  been  to  Newburgh,  and  were  returning  with  their  two-horse 
wagon  well  laden  with  goods,  attempted  to  drive  over  a  bridge 
as  it  unsettled  with  the  current,  and  were  precipitated  head- 
long. The  old  man  caught  a  sapling  as  he  went  down  with  the 
flood,  the  old  woman  holding  on  to  his  coat-skirts,  and  so  they 
struggled  until  their  cries  brought  assistance.'  Other  and  simi- 
lar incidents  are  given.  One  large  building  was  completely 
disembowelled,  and  the  stream  coursed  violently  between  the 
two  halves  of  its  ruins.  '  I  was  stopped,'  he  writes  in  another 
place,  '  as  I  scrambled  along  the  gorge,  by  a  curious  picture 
for  the  common  highway.  The  brick  front  of  the  basement  of 
a  dwelling-house  had  been  torn  off,  and  the  mistress  of  the 
house  was  on  her  hands  and  knees,  with  her  head  thrust  in 
from  a  rear  window,  apparently  getting  her  first  look  down  into 
the  desolated  kitchen  from  which  she  had  fled  in  the  night.  A 
man  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  up  to  his  knees  in  water, 
looking  round  in  dismay,  though  he  had  begun  to  pick  up  some 
of  the  overset  chairs  and  utensils.  The  fireplace,  with  its  in- 
terrupted supper  arrangements,  the  dresser,  with  its  plates  and 
pans,  its  cups  and  saucers,  the  closets  and  cupboards,  with 
their  various  stores  and  provisions,  were  all  laid  open  to  the 
road  like  a  sliced  watermelon.'  " 

"Well,"  ejaculated  Leonard,  "we  haven't  so  much  cause  to 
complain,  after  hearing  of  an  affair  like  that.  I  do  remember 
many  of  my  impressions  at  the  time,  now  that  the  event  is 
recalled  so  vividly,  but  have  forgotten  how  so  sudden  a  flood 
was  accounted  for." 

"  Willis  speaks  of  it  on  another  page,"  continued  Webb,  "  as 
'  the  aggregation  of  extensive  masses  of  clouds  into  Svhat  is 
sometimes  called  a  "water-spout,"  by  the  meeting  of  winds 
upon  the  converging  edge  of  our  bowl  of  highlands.  The 
storm  for  a  whole  country  was  thus  concentrated.'  I  think 
there  must  have  been  yesterday  a  far  heavier  fall  of  water  on 
the  mountains  a  little  to  the  southeast  than  we  had  here.  Per- 


382  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

haps  the  truer  explanation  in  both  instances  would  be  that  the 
winds  brought  heavy  clouds  together  or  against  the  mountains 
in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  an  enormous  precipitation  of  vapor 
into  rain.  Mr.  Willis  indicates  by  the  following  passage  the 
suddenness  of  the  flood  he  describes  :  '  My  first  intimation  that 
there  was  anything  uncommon  in  the  brook  was  the  sight  of  a 
gentleman  in  a  boat  towing  a  cow  across  the  meadow  under  our 
library  window  —  a  green  glade  seldom  or  never  flooded.  The 
roar  from  the  foaming  precipices  in  the  glen  had  been  heard  by 
us  all,  but  was  thought  to  be  thunder.7  Then  he  tells  how  he 
and  his  daughter  put  on  their  rubber  suits  and  hastened  into 
the  glen.  '  The  chasm,'  he  writes,  '  in  which  the  brook,  in  any 
freshet  I  had  heretofore  seen,  was  still  only  a  deep-down  stream, 
now  seemed  too  small  for  the  torrent.  Those  giddy  precipices 
on  which  the  sky  seems  to  lean  as  you  stand  below  were  the 
foam-lashed  sides  of  a  full  and  mighty  river.  The  spray  broke 
through  the  tops  of  the  full-grown  willows  and  lindens.  As  the 
waves  plunged  against  the  cliffs  they  parted,  and  disclosed  the 
trunks  and  torn  branches  of  the  large  trees  they  had  over- 
whelmed and  were  bearing  away,  and  the  earth-colored  flood, 
in  the  wider  places,  was  a  struggling  mass  of  planks,  timber, 
rocks,  and  roots  —  tokens  of  a  tumultuous  ruin  above,  to  which 
the  thunder-shower  pouring  around  us  gave  but  a  feeble  clew. 
A  heavy-limbed  willow,  which  overhung  a  rock  on  which  I  had 
often  sat  to  watch  the  freshets  of  spring,  rose  up  while  we 
looked  at  it,  and  with  a  surging  heave,  as  if  lifted  by  an  earth- 
quake, toppled  back,  and  was  swept  rushingly  away.'  " 

"  How  I  would  have  liked  to  see  it  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Har- 
grove. 

"  I  can  see  it,"  said  Amy,  leaning  back,  and  closing  her  eyes. 
"  I  can  see  it  all  too  vividly.  I  don't  like  nature  in  such 
moods."  Then  she  took  up  the  volume,  and  began  turning  the 
leaves,  and  said  :  "  I've  never  seen  this  book  before.  Why,  it's 
all  about  this  region,  and  written  before  I  was  born.  Oh  dear, 
here  is  another  chapter  of  horrors  !  "  and  she  read  :  " '  Close 


ECHOES   OF  A    rAST  STORM.  383 

to  our  gate,  at  the  door  of  one  of  our  nearest  and  most  valued 
neighbors  —  a  lovely  girl  was  yesterday  struck  dead  by  light- 
ning. A  friend  who  stood  with  her  at  the  moment  was  a  greater 
sufferer,  in  being  prostrated  by  the  same  flash,  and  paralyzed 
from  the  waist  downward  —  her  life  spared  at  the  cost  of  tor- 
tures inexpressible.'  " 

Webb  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  the  book  from  her,  but 
she  sprang  aloof,  and  with  dilating  eyes  read  further :  " '  Miss 
Gilmour  had  been  chatting  with  a  handsome  boy  admirer,  but 
left  him  to  take  aside  a  confidential  friend  that  she  might  read 
her  a  letter.  It  was  from  her  mother,  a  widow  with  this  only 
daughter.  They  passed  out  of -the  gate,  crossed  the  road  to  be 
out  of  hearing,  and  stood  under  the  telegraph  wire,  when  the 
letter  was  opened.  Her  lips  were  scarce  parted  to  read  when 
the  flash  came  —  an  arrow  of  intense  light  — '  Oh,  horrible  ! 
horrible  !  How  can  you  blame  me  for  fear  in  a  thunder- 
storm? " 

"  Amy/'  said  Webb,  now  quietly  taking  the  book,  "  your 
dread  at  such  times  is  constitutional.  If  there  were  need,  you 
could  face  danger  as  well  as  any  of  us.  You  would  have  all  a 
woman's  fortitude,  and  that  surpasses  ours.  Take  the  world 
over,  the  danger  from  lightning  is  exceedingly  slight,  and  it's 
not  the  danger  that  makes  you  tremble,  but  your  nervous 
organization." 

"  You  interpret  me  kindly,"  she  said,  "  but  I  don't  see  why 
nature  is  so  full  of  horrible  things.  If  Gertrude  had 'been 
bitten  by  the  snake,  she  might  have  fared  even  worse  than  the 
poor  girl  of  whom  I  have  read." 

Miss  Hargrove  could  not  forbear  a  swift,  grateful  glance  at 
Burt. 

"  I  do  not  think  nature  is  full  of  horrible  things,"  Webb  re- 
sumed. "  Remember  how  many  showers  have  cooled  the  air 
and  made  the  earth  beautiful  and  fruitful  in  this  region.  In  no 
other  instance  that  I  know  anything  about  has  life  been  de- 
stroyed in  our  vicinity.  There  is  indeed  a  side  to  nature  that 


384  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

is  full  of  mystery  —  the  old  dark  mystery  of  evil ;  but  I  should 
rather  say  it  is  full  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  helpful.  At  least 
this  seems  true  of  our  region.  I  have  never  seen  so  much 
beauty  in  all  my  life  as  during  the  past  year,  simply  because  I 
am  forming  the  habit  of  looking  for  it." 

"  Why,  Webb,"  exclaimed  Amy,  laughing,  "  I  thought  your 
mind  was  concentrating  on  crops  and  subjects  as  deep  as  the 
ocean." 

"  It  would  take  all  the  salt  of  the  ocean  to  save  that  remark," 
he  replied ;  but  he  beat  a  rather  hasty  retreat. 

"  Well,  Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "  you  may  now  dismiss  your 
fears.  I  imagine  that  in  our  tropical  storm  summer  has  passed  ; 
and  with  it  thunder-showers  and  sudden  floods.  We  may  now 
look  forward  to  two  months  of  almost  ideal  weather,  with  now 
and  then  a  day  that  will  make  a  book  and  a  wood  fire  all  the 
more  alluring." 

The  old  gentleman's  words  proved  true.  The  days  passed 
like  bright  smiles,  in  which,  however,  lurked  the  pensiveness  of 
autumn.  Slowly  failing  maples  glowed  first  with  the  hectic  flush 
of  disease,  but  gradually  warmer  hues  stole  into  the  face  of 
Nature,  for  it  is  the  dying  of  the  leaves  that  causes  the  changes 
of  color  in  the  foliage. 


IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART.  385 


CHAPTER   L. 

IMPULSES   OF   THE   HEART. 

THE  fall  season  brought  increased  and  varied  labors  on  the 
farm  and  in  the  garden.  As  soon  as  the  ground  was  dry 
after  the  tremendous  storm,  and  its  ravages  had  been  repaired 
as  far  as  possible,  the  ploughs  were  busy  preparing  for  winter 
grain,  turnips  were  thinned  out,  winter  cabbages  and  cauli- 
flowers cultivated,  and  the  succulent  and  now  rapidly  growing 
celery  earthed  up.  The  fields  of  corn  were  watched,  and  as 
fast  as  the  kernels  within  the  husks  —  now  becoming  golden- 
hued  —  were  glazed,  the  stalks  were  cut  and  tied  in  compact 
shocks.  The  sooner  maize  is  cut,  after  it  has  sufficiently  ma- 
tured, the  better,  for  the  leaves  make  more  nutritious  fodder  if 
cured  or  dried  while  still  full  of  sap.  From  some  fields  the 
shocks  were  wholly  removed,  that  the  land  might  be  ploughed 
and  seeded  with  grain  and  grass.  Buckwheat,  used  merely  as 
a  green  and  scavenger  crop,  was  ploughed  under  as  it  came  into 
blossom,  and  that  which  was  sown  to  mature  was  cut  in  the 
early  morning,  while  the  dew  was  still  upon  it,  for  in  the  heat 
of  the  day  the  grain  shells  easily,  and  is  lost.  After  drying  for 
a  few  days  in  compact  little  heaps  it  was  ready  for  the  thresh- 
ing-machine. Then  the  black,  angular  kernels  —  promises  of 
many  winter  breakfasts  —  were  spread  to  dry  on  the  barn  floor, 
for  if  thrown  into  heaps  or  bins  at  this  early  stage,  they  heat 
badly. 

The  Cliffords  had  long  since  learned   that   the   large   late 
peaches,  that  mature  after  the  Southern  crop  is  out  of  the 


386  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

market,  are  the  most  profitable,  and  almost  every  day  Abram 
took  to  the  landing  a  load  of  baskets  full  of  downy  beauties. 
An  orange  grove,  with  its  deep  green  foliage  and  golden  fruit, 
is  beautiful  indeed,  but  an  orchard  laden  with  Crawford's  Late, 
in  their  best  development,  can  well  sustain  comparison.  Shar- 
ing the  honors  and  attention  given  to  the  peaches  were  the 
Bartlett  and  other  early  pears.  These  latter  fruits  were  treated 
in  much  the  same  way  as  the  former.  The  trees  were  picked 
over  every  few  days,  and  the  largest  and  ripest  specimens  taken, 
their  maturity  being  indicated  by  the  readiness  of  the  stem  to 
part  from  the  spray  when  the  pear  is  lifted.  The  greener  and 
imperfect  fruit  was  left  to  develop,  and  the  trees,  relieved  of 
much  of  their  burden,  were  able  to  concentrate  their  forces  on 
what  was  left.  The  earlier  red  grapes,  including  the  Delaware, 
Brighton,  and  Agawam,  not  only  furnished  the  table  abundantly, 
but  also  a  large  surplus  for  market.  Indeed,  there  was  high  and 
dainty  feasting  at  the  Cliffords'  every  day  —  fruit  everywhere, 
hanging  temptingly  within  reach,  with  its  delicate  bloom 
untouched,  untarnished. 

The  storm  and  the  seasonable  rains  that  followed  soon  re- 
stored its  fulness  and  beauty  to  Nature's  withered  face.  The 
drought  had  brought  to  vegetation  partial  rest  and  extension  of 
root  growth,  and  now,  with  the  abundance  of  moisture,  there 
was  almost  a  spring-like  revival.  The  grass  sprang  up  afresh, 
meadows  and  fields  grew  green,  and  annual  weeds,  from  seeds 
that  had  matured  in  August,  appeared  by  the  million. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  them,"  Webb  remarked.  "  Before  they 
can  mature  any  seed  the  frost  will  put  an  end  to  their  career 
of  mischief,  and  there  will  be  so  many  seeds  less  to  grow  next 
spring." 

"  There'll  be  plenty  left,"  Leonard  replied. 

The  Cliffords,  by  their  provident  system  of  culture,  had  pre- 
pared for  droughts  as  mariners  do  for  storms,  and  hence  they 
had  not  suffered  so  greatly  as  others ;  but  busy  as  they  were 
kept  by  the  autumnal  bounty  of  Nature,  and  the  rewards  of 


IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART. 


337 


their  own  industry,  they  found  time  for  recreation,  and  thoughts 
far  removed  from  the  material  questions  of  profit  and  loss.  The 
drama  of  life  went  on,  and  feeling,  conviction,  and  love  matured 


1 


HARVESTING. 


like  the  ripening  fruits,  although  not  so  openly.  ,As  soon  as  his 
duties  permitted,  Burt  took  a  rather  abrupt  departure  for  a 
hunting  expedition  in  the  northern  woods,  and  a  day  or  two 


388  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

later  Amy  received  a  note  from  Miss  Hargrove,  saying  that  she 
had  accepted  an  invitation  to  join  a  yachting  party. 

"  Oh,  Webb  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  wish  you  were  not  so 
awfully  busy  all  the  time.  Here  I  am,  thrown  wholly  on  your 
tender  mercies,  and  I  am  neither  a  crop  nor  a  scientific  sub- 
ject." 

He  gave  her  little  reason  for  complaint.  The  increasing 
coolness  and  exhilarating  vitality  of  the  air  made  not  only  labor 
agreeable,  but  out- door  sports  delightful,  and  he  found  time  for 
an  occasional  gallop,  drive,  or  ramble  along  roads  and  lanes 
lined  with  golden-rod  and  purple  asters ;  and  these  recreations 
had  no  other  drawback  than  the  uncertainty  and  anxiety  within 
his  heart.  The  season  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  but  the  outer 
world,  even  in  its  perfection,  is  only  an  accompaniment  of 
human  life,  which  is  often  in  sad  discord  with  it. 

Nature,  however,  is  a  harmony  of  many  and  varied  strains, 
and  the  unhappy  are  always  conscious  of  a  deep  minor  key 
even  on  the  brightest  days.  To  Alf  and  Johnnie  the  fall 
brought  unalloyed  joy  and  promise ;  to  those  who  were  older, 
something  akin  to  melancholy,  which  deepened  with  the  autumn 
of  their  life  ;  while  to  Mr.  Alvord  every  breeze  was  a  sigh,  every 
rising  wind  a  mournful  requiem,  and  every  trace  of  change  a 
reminder  that  his  spring  and  summer  had  passed  forever,  leav- 
ing only  a  harvest  of  bitter  memories.  Far  different  was  the 
dreamy  pensiveness  with  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  looked 
back  upon  their  vanished  youth  and  maturity.  At  the  same 
time  they  felt  within  themselves  the  beginnings  of  an  immortal 
youth.  Although  it  was  late  autumn  with  them,  not  memory, 
but  hope,  was  in  the  ascendant. 

During  damp  or  chilly  days,  and  on  the  evenings  of  late  Sep- 
tember, the  fire  burned  cheerily  on  the  hearth  of  their  Franklin 
stove.  The  old  gentleman  had  a  curious  fancy  in  regard  to  his 
fire-wood.  He  did  not  want  the  straight,  shapely  sticks  from 
their  mountain  land,  but  gnarled  and  crooked  billets,  cut  from 
trees  about  the  place  that  had  required  pruning  and  removal. 


IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART.  389 

"  I  have  associations  with  such  fuel,"  he  said,  "  and  can 
usually  recall  the  trees  —  many  of  which  I  planted  —  from 
which  it  came ;  and  as  I  watch  it  burn  and  turn  into  coals,  I 
see  pictures  of  what  happened  many  years  ago." 

One  evening  he  threw  on  the  fire  a  worm-eaten  billet,  the 
sound  part  of  which  was  as  red  as  mahogany  ;  then  drew  Amy 
to  him  and  said,  "  I  once  sat  with  your  father  under  the  apple- 
tree  of  which  that  piece  of  wood  was  a  part,  and  I  can  see  him 
now  as  he  then  looked." 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  and  said,  -softly,  "  Please  tell  me 
how  he  looked." 

In  simple  words  the  old  man  portrayed  the  autumn  day,  the 
fruit  as  golden  as  the  sunshine,  a  strong,  hopeful  man,  who  had 
passed  away  in  a  far-distant  land,  but  who  was  still  a  living  pres- 
ence to  both.  Amy  looked  at  the  picture  in  the  flickering  blaze 
until  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears.  But  such  drops  fall  on 
the  heart  like  rain  and  dew,  producing  richer  and  more  beauti- 
ful life. 

The  pomp  and  glory  of  October  were  ushered  in  by  days  of 
such  surpassing  balminess  and  brightness  that  it  was  felt  to  be  a 
sin  to  remain  in-doors.  The  grapes  had  attained  their  deepest 
purple,  and  the  apples  in  the  orchard  vied  with  the  brilliant  and 
varied  hues  of  the  fast-turning  foliage.  The  nights  were  soft, 
warm,  and  resonant  with  the  unchecked  piping  of  insects. 
From  every  tree  and  shrub  the  katydids  contradicted  one 
another  with  increasing  emphasis,  as  if  conscious  that  the  time 
was  at  hand  when  the  last  word  must  be  spoken.  The  stars 
glimmered  near  through  a  delicate  haze,  and  in  the  western  sky 
the  pale  crescent  of  the  moon  was  so  inclined  that  the  old 
Indian  might  have  hung  upon  it  his  powder-horn. 

On  such  an  evening  the  young  people  from  the  Cliffords'  had 
gathered  on  Mr.  Hargrove's  piazza,  and  Amy  and  Gertrude  were 
looking  at  the  new  moon  with  silver  in  their  pockets,  each 
making  her  silent  wish.  What  were  those  wishes  ?  Amy  had 
to  think  before  deciding  what  she  wanted  most,  but  not  Miss 


390  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Hargrove.  Her  face  has  grown  thinner  and  paler  during  the 
last  few  weeks  ;  there  is  unwonted  brilliancy  in  her  eyes  to-night, 
but  her  expression  is  resolute.  Her  wish  and  her  hope  were  at 
variance.  Times  of  weakness,  if  such  they  could  be  called, 
would  come,  but  they  should  not  appear  in  Burt's  or  Amy's 
presence. 

The  former  had  just  returned,  apparently  gayer  than  ever. 
His  face  was  bronzed  from  his  out-door  life  in  the  Adirondacks. 
Its  expression  was  also  resolute,  and  his  eyes  turned  oftenest 
towards  Amy,  with  a  determined  loyalty.  As  has  been  said, 
not  long  after  the  experiences  following  the  storm,  he  had 
yielded  to  his  impulse  to  go  away  and  recover  his  poise.  He 
felt  that  if  he  continued  to  see  Miss  Hargrove  frequently  he 
might  reveal  a  weakness  which  would  lead  not  only  Amy  to 
despise  him,  but  also  Miss  Hargrove,  should  she  become  aware 
of  the  past.  As  he  often  took  such  outings,  the  family,  with 
the  exception  of  Webb  and  Amy,  thought  nothing  of  it.  His 
brother  and  the  girl  he  had  wooed  so  passionately  now  under- 
stood him  well  enough  to  surmise  his  motive,  and  Amy  had 
thought,  "  It  will  do  him  good  to  go  away  and  think  awhile, 
but  it  will  make  no  difference ;  this  new  affair  must  run  its 
course  also."  And  yet  her  heart  began  to  relent  towards  him 
after  a  sisterly  fashion.  She  wondered  if  Miss  Hargrove  did 
regard  him  as  other  than  a  friend  to  whom  she  owed  very  much. 
If  so,  she  smiled  at  the  idea  of  standing  in  the.  way  of  their 
mutual  happiness.  She  had  endured  his  absence  with  exceed- 
ing tranquillity,  for  Webb  had  given  her  far  more  of  his  society, 
and  she,  Alf,  and  Johnnie  often  went  out  and  aided  him  in 
gathering  the  fruit.  For  some  reason  these  light  tasks  had  been 
more  replete  with  quiet  enjoyment  than  deliberate  pleasure- 
seeking. 

Burt  had  been  at  pains  to  take,  in  Amy's  presence,  a  most 
genial  and  friendly  leave  of  Miss  Hargrove,  but  there  was  no 
trace  of  the  lover  in  his  manner.  His  smiles  and  cordial  words 
had  chilled  her  heart,  and  had  strengthened  the  fear  that  in 


IMPULSES  OF   THE  HEART.  391 

some  way  he  was  bound  to  Amy.  She  knew  that  she  had  fas- 
cinated and  perhaps  touched  him  deeply,  but  imagined  she  saw 
indications  of  an  allegiance  that  gave  little  hope  for  the  future. 
If  he  felt  as  she  did,  and  were  free,  he  would  not  have  gone 
away  ;  and  when  he  had  gone,  time  grew  leaden-footed.  Ab- 
sence is  the  touchstone,  and  by  its  test  she  knew  that  her  father 
was  right,  and  that  she,  to  whom  so  much  love  had  been  given 
unrequited,  had  bestowed  hers  apparently  in  like  manner. 
Then  had  come  an  invitation  to  join  a  yachting  party  to  Fort- 
ress Monroe,  and  she  had  eagerly  accepted.  With  the  half- 
reckless  impulse  of  pride,  she  had  resolved  to  throw  away  the 
dream  that  had  promised  so  much,  and  yet  had  ended  in  such 
bitter  and  barren  reality.  She  would  forget  it  all  in  one  brief 
whirl  of  gayety  ;  and  she  had  been  the  brilliant  life  of  the  party. 
But  how  often  her  laugh  had  ended  in  a  stifled  sigh  !  How 
often  her  heart  told  her,  "  This  is  hot  happiness,  and  never  can 
be  again  "  !  Her  brief  experience  of  what  is  deep  and  genuine 
in  life  taught  her  that  she  had  outgrown  certain  pleasures  of  the 
past,  as  a  child  outgrows  its  toys,  and  she  had  returned  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  her  remedy  was  not  in  the  dissipations 
of  society. 

The  evening  after  her  return  Burt,  with  Webb  and  Amy,  had 
come  to  call,  and  as  she  looked  upon  him  again  she  asked  her- 
self, in  sadness,  "Is  there  any  remedy?"  She  was  not  one  to 
give  her  heart  in  a  half-way  manner. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  been  absent  for  years,  and  had 
grown  indefinitely  remote.  Never  before  had  she  gained  the 
impression  so  strongly  that  he  was  in  some  way  bound  to  Amy$ 
and  would  abide  by  his  choice.  If  this  were  true,  she  felt  that 
the  sooner  she  left  the  vicinity  the  better,  and  even  while  she 
chatted  lightly  and  genially  she  was  planning  to  induce  her 
father  to  return  to  the  city  at  an  early  date.  Before  parting, 
Amy  spoke  of  her  pleasure  at  the  return  of  her  friend,  who,  she 
said,  had  been  greatly  missed,  adding :  "  Now  we  shall  make 
up  for  lost  time.  The  roads  are  in  fine  condition  for  horseback 


392  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY, 

exercise,  nutting  expeditions  will  soon  be  in  order,  and  we  have 
a  bee-hunt  on  the  programme." 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  your  prospects,"  said  Miss  Hargrove. 
"  I  wish  I  could  share  in  all  your  fun,  but  fear  I  shall  soon 
return  to  the  city." 

Burt  felt  a  sudden  chill  at  these  words,  and  a  shadow  from 
them  fell  across  his  face.  Webb  saw  their  effect,  and  he  at 
once  entered  on  a  rather  new  role  for  him.  "  Then  we  must 
make  the  most  of  the  time  before  you  go,"  he  began.  "  I  pro- 
pose we  take  advantage  of  this  weather  and  drive  over  to  West 
Point,  and  lunch  at  Fort  Putnam." 

"  Why,  Webb,  what  a  burst  of  genius  !  "  Amy  exclaimed. 
"  Nothing  could  be  more  delightful.  Let  us  go  to-morrow,  for 
we  can't  count  on  such  weather  long." 

Miss  Hargrove  hesitated.  e  The  temptation  was  indeed  strong, 
but  she  felt  it  would  not  be  wise  to  yield,  and  began,  hesitatingly, 
"  I  fear  my  engagements  —  "  At  this  moment  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Burt's  face  in  a  mirror,  and  saw  the  look  of  disap- 
pointment which  he  could  not  disguise.  "  If  I  return  to  the 
city  soon,"  she  resumed,  "  I  ought  to  be  at  my  preparations." 

"  Why,  Gertrude,"  said  Amy,  "  I  almost  feel  as  if  you  did  not 
wish  to  go.  Can't  you  spare  one  day  ?  I  thought  you  were  to 
remain  in  the  country  till  November.  I  have  been  planning  so 
much  that  we  could  do  together  !  " 

"  Surely,  Miss  Hargrove,"  added  Burt,  with  a  slight  tremor  in 
his  voice,  "you  cannot  nip  Webb's  genius  in  the  very  bud. 
Such  an' expedition  as  he  proposes  is  an  inspiration." 

"  But  you  can  do  without  me,"  she  replied,  smiling  on  him 
bewilderingly. 

It  was  a  light  arrow,  but  its  aim  was  true.  Never  before  had 
he  so  felt  the  power  oif  her  beauty,  the  almost  irresistible  spell 
of  her  fascination.  While  her  lips  were  smiling,  there  was  an 
expression  in  her  dark  eyes  that  made  her  words,  so  simple  and 
natural  in  themselves,  a  searching  question,  and  he  could  not 
forbear  saying,  earnestly,  "  We  should  all  enjoy  the  excursion 
far  more  if  you  went  with  us." 


IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART.  393 

"Truly,  Miss  Hargrove,"  said  Webb,  "I  shall  be  quenched 
if  you  decline,  and  feel  that  I  have  none  of  the  talent  for  which 
I  was  beginning  to  gain  a  little  credit." 

"  I  cannot  resist  such  an  appeal  as  that,  Mr.  Clifford,"  she 
said,  laughingly. 

"This  is  perfectly  splendid  !"  cried  Amy.  "I  anticipate  a 
marvellous  day  to-morrow.  Bring  Fred  also,  and  let  us  all  vie 
with  each  other  in  encouraging  Webb." 

"Has  that  quiet  Webb  any  scheme  in  his  mind?"  Miss 
Hargrove  thought,  after  they  had  gone.  "  I  wish  that  to-mor- 
row might  indeed  be  '  a  marvellous  day '  for  us  all." 

"Can  I  do  without  her?"  was  poor  Burt's  query.  An 
affirmative  answer  was  slow  in  coming,  though  he  thought  long 
and  late. 


394  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   LI. 

\ 

WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION. 

MR.  HARGROVE  had  welcomed  the  invitation  that  took 
his  daughter  among  some  of  her  former  companions, 
hoping  that  a  return  to  brilliant  fashionable  life  would  prove  to 
her  that  she  could  not  give  it  up.  It  was  his  wish  that  she 
should  marry  a  wealthy  man  of  the  city.  His  wife  did  not 
dream  of  any  other  future  for  her  handsome  child,  and  she 
looked  forward  with  no  little  complacency  to  the  ordering  of  a 
new  and  elegant  establishment. 

At  the  dinner-table  Gertrude  had  given  a  vivacious  account 
of  her  yachting  experience,  and  all  had  appeared  to  promise 
well ;  but  when  she  went  to  the  library  to  kiss  her  father  good- 
night, he  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  and  said,  "You  enjoyed 
every  moment,  I  suppose?-" 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and,  after  a  moment,  said  :  "  I 
fear  I've  grown  rather  tired  of  that  kind  of  thing.  We  made 
much  effort  to  enjoy  ourselves.  Is  there  not  a  happiness  which 
comes  without  so  much  effort?  " 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  simply. 

"  Perhaps  you  need  not  be.  Suppose  I  find  more  pleasure 
in  staying  with  you  than  in  rushing  around  ?  " 

"  That  would  not  last.     That  is  contrary  to  nature." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  less  contrary  to  my  nature  than  forced 
gayety  among  people  I  care  nothing  about." 

He  smiled  at  her  fondly,  but  admitted  to  himself  that  absence 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  395 

had  confirmed  the  impressions  of  the  summer,  instead  of  dissi- 
pating them,  and  that  if  Burt  became  her  suitor  he  would  be 
accepted. 

When  she  looked  out  on  the  morning  of  the  excursion  to 
Fort  Putnam  it  was  so  radiant  with  light  and  beauty  that  hope 
sprang  up  within  her  heart.  Disappointment  that  might  last 
through  life  could  not  come  on  a  day  like  this.  Silvery  mists 
ascended  from  the  river  down  among  the  Highlands.  The 
lawn  and  many  of  the  fields  were  as  green  as  they  had  been  in 
June,  and  on  every  side  were  trees  like  immense  bouquets,  so 
rich  and  varied  was  their  coloring.  There  was  a  dewy  fresh- 
ness in  the  air,  a  genial  warmth  in  the  sunshine,  a  spring-like 
blue  in  the  sky ;  and  in  these  was  no  suggestion  that  the  Novem- 
ber of  her  life  was  near.  "  And  yet  it  may  be,"  she  thought. 
"  I  must  soon  face  my  fate,  and  I  mvst  be  true  to  Amy." 

Mrs.  Hargrove  regarded  with  disc  ^ntent  the  prospect  of 
another  long  mountain  expedition  ;  but  Fred,  her  idol,  was  wild 
for  it,  and  in  a  day  or  two  he  must  return  to  school  in  the  city, 
from  which,  at  his  earnest  plea,  he  had  been  absent  too  long 
already ;  so  she  smiled  her  farewell  at  last  upon  the  fateful 
excursion. 

He,  with  his  sister,  was  soon  at  the  Cliffords',  and  found  the 
rockaway  —  the  strong  old  carryall  with  which  Gertrude  already 
had  tender  associations  —  in  readiness.  Maggie  had  agreed 
to  chaperon  the  party,  little  Ned  having  been  easily  bribed  to 
remain  with  his  father. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  looked  wistfully  at  the  Clifford  mansion 
as  she  drew  near  to  it.  Never  had  it  appeared  to  her  more 
home-like,  with  its  embowering  trees  and  laden  orchards.  The 
bright  hues  of  the  foliage  suggested  the  hopes  that  centred 
there  :  the  ocean,  as  she  had  seen  it  —  cold  and  gray  under  a 
clouded  sky  —  was  emblematic  of  life  with  no  fulfilment  of 
those  hopes.  And  when  Mr.  Clifford  met  her  at  the  door,  and 
took  her  in  to  see  the  invalid,  who  greeted  her  almost  as  affec- 
tionately as  she  would  have  welcomed  Amy  after  absence,  Miss 


396  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Hargrove  knew  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  how  easily  she  could 
be  at  home  there. 

Never  did  a  pleasure-party  start  under  brighter  auspices. 
Even  Mrs.  Clifford  came  out,  on  her  husband's  arm,  to  wave 
them  a  farewell. 

The  young  men  had  their  alpenstocks,  for  it  was  their  inten- 
tion to  walk  up  the  steep  places.  Webb  was  about  to  take  Alf 
and  Johnnie  on  the  front  seat  with  him,  when  Amy  exclaimed  : 
"  I'm  going  to  drive,  Mr.  Webb.  Johnnie  can  sit  between  us, 
and  keep  me  company  when  you  are  walking.  You  needn't 
think  that  because  you  are  the  brilliant  author  of  this  expedi- 
tion you  are  going  to  have  everything  your  own  way." 

Indeed,  not  a  little  guile  lurked  behind  her  laughing  eyes, 
which  ever  kept  Webb  in  perplexity  —  though  he  looked  into 
them  so  often  —  as  to  whether  they  were  blue  or  gray.  Miss 
Hargrove  demurely  took  her  seat  with  Maggie,  and  Burt  had 
the  two  boys  with  him.  Fred  had  brought  his  gun,  and  was 
vigilant  for  game  now  that  the  "law  was  up." 

They  soon  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  there  was 
a  general  unloading,  for  at  first  every  one  wished  to  walk. 
Maggie  good-naturedly  climbed  around  to  the  front  seat  and 
took  the  reins,  remarking  that  she  would  soon  have  plenty  of 
company  again. 

Burt  had  not  recognized  Amy's  tactics,  nor  did  he  at  once 
second  them,  even  unconsciously.  His  long  ruminations  had 
led  to  the  only  possible  conclusion  —  the  words  he  had  spoken 
must  be  made  good.  Pride  and  honor  permitted  no  other 
course.  Therefore  he  proposed  to-day  to  be  ubiquitous,  and 
as  gallant  to  Maggie  as  to  the  younger  ladies.  When  Miss 
Hargrove  returned  to  the  city  he  would  quietly  prove  his  loyalty. 
Never  before  had  he  appeared  in  such  spirits ;  never  so  inex- 
orably resolute.  He  recalled  Amy's  incredulous  laugh  at  his 
protestation  of  constancy,  and  felt  that  he  could  never  look  her 
in  the  face  if  he  faltered.  It  was  known  that  Miss  Hargrove 
had  received  much  attention,  and  her  interest  in  him  would  be 


WEBB^S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  397 

likely  to  disappear  at  once  should  she  learn  of  his  declaration 
of  undying  devotion  to  another  but  a  few  months  before.  He 
anathematized  himself,  but  determined  that  his  weakness  should 
remain  unknown.  It  was  evident  that  Amy  had  been  a  little 
jealous,  but  probably  that  she  did  not  yet  care  enough  for  him 
to  be  very  sensitive  on  the  subject.  This  made  no  difference, 
however.  He  had  pledged  himself  to  wait  until  she  did  care. 
Therefore  he  sedulously  maintained  his  mask.  Miss  Hargrove 
should  be  made  to  believe  that  she  had  added  much  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  excursion,  and  there  he  would  stop.  And  Burt 
on  his  mettle  was  no  bungler.  The  test  would  come  in  his 
staying  powers. 

Webb,  however,  was  quietly  serene.  He  had  not  watched 
and  thought  so  long  in  vain.  He  had  seen  Burt's  expression 
the  evening  before,  and  knew  that  a  wakeful  night  had  followed. 
His  own  feeling  had  taught  him  a  clairvoyance  which  enabled 
him  to  divine  not  a  little  of  what  was  passing  in  his  brother's 
mind  and  that  of  Miss  Hargrove.  Amy  troubled  him  more 
than  they.  Her  frank,  sisterly  affection  was  not  love,  and 
might  never  become  love. 

One  of  the  objects  of  the  expedition  was  to  obtain  an  abun- 
dant supply  of  autumn  leaves  and  ferns  for  pressing.  "  I  in- 
tend to  make  the  old  house  look  like  a  bower  this  winter,"  Amy 
remarked. 

"  That  would  be  impossible  with  our  city  home,"  Miss  Har- 
grove said,  "  and  mamma  would  not  hear  of  such  an  attempt. 
But  I  can  do  as  I  please  in  my  own  room,  and  shall  gather  my 
country  souvenirs  to-day." 

The  idea  of  decorating  her  apartment  with  feathery  fenis  and 
bright-hued  leaves  took  a  strong  hold  upon  her  fancy,  for  she 
hoped  that  Burt  would  aid  her  in  making  the  collection.  Nor 
was  she  disappointed,  for  Amy  said  : 

"Burt,  I  have  gathered  and  pressed  nearly  all  the  ferns  I 
need  already.  You  know  the  shady  nooks  where  the  most  deli- 
cate ones  grow,  and  you  can  help  Gertrude  make  as  good  a 


398  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

collection  as  mine.  You'll  help  too,  won't  you,  Webb?  "  added 
the  innocent  little  schemer,  who  saw  that  Burt  was  looking  at 
her  rather  keenly. 

So  they  wound  up  the  mountain,  making  long  stops  here  and 
there  to  gather  sylvan  trophies  and  to  note  the  fine  views. 
Amy's  manner  was  so  cordial  and  natural  that  Burt's  suspicions 
had  been  allayed,  and  the  young  fellow,  who  could  do  nothing 
by  halves,  was  soon  deeply  absorbed  in  making  a  superb  collec- 
tion for  Miss  Hargrove,  and  she  felt  that,  whatever  happened, 
she  was  being  enriched  by  everything  he  obtained  for  her. 
Amy  had  brought  a  great  many  newspapers  folded  together  so 
that  leaves  could  be  placed  between  the  pages,  and  Webb  soon 
noted  that  his  offerings  were  kept  separate  from  those  of  Burt. 
The  latter  tried  to  be  impartial  in  his  labors  in  behalf  of  the  two 
girls,  bringing  Amy  bright-hued  leaves  instead  of  ferns,  but  did 
not  wholly  succeed,  and  sometimes  he  found  himself  alone  with 
Miss  Hargrove  as  they  pursued  their  search  a  short  distance  on 
some  diverging  and  shaded  path.  On  one  of  these  occasions 
he  said,  "  I  like  to  think  how  beautiful  you  will  make  your  room 
this  winter." 

"  I  like  to  think  of  it  too,"  she  replied.  "  I  shall  feel  that  I 
have  a  part  of  my  pleasant  summer  always  present." 

"  Has  it  been  a  pleasant  summer?  " 

"  Yes,  the  pleasantest  I  ever  enjoyed." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  find  it  exceedingly  dull  after  such 
brilliant  experiences  as  that  of  your  yachting  excursion." 

"  Do  you  find  to-day  exceedingly  dull  ?  " 

"  But  I  am  used  to  the  quiet  country,  and  a  day  like  this  is 
the  exception." 

"  I  do  not  imagine  you  have  ever  lived  a  tame  life." 

"  Isn't  that  about  the  same  as  calling  me  wild? " 

"There's  no  harm  in  beginning  a  little  in  that  way.  Time 
sobers  one  fast  enough." 

"You  are  so  favored  that  I  can  scarcely  imagine  life  bringing 
sobering  experiences  to  you  very  soon." 


U'ERfi'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  399 

"  Indeed  ?  Have  you  forgotten  what  occurred  on  these  very 
mountains,  at  no  great  distance  ?  I  assure  you  I  never  forget 
it ; "  and  her  eyes  were  eloquent  as  she  turned  them  upon 
him. 

"  One  does  not  forget  the  most  fortunate  event  of  one's  life. 
Since  you  were  to  meet  thajt  danger,  I  would  not  have  missed 
being  near  for  the  world.  I  had  even  a  narrower  escape,  as  you 
know,  on  this  mountain.  The  spot,  where  Webb  found  me  is 
scarcely  more  than  a  mile  away." 

She  looked  at  him  very  wistfully,  and  her  face  grew  pale,  but 
she  only  said,  "  I  don't  think  either  of  us  can  forget  the 
Highlands." 

"I  shall  never  forget  that  little  path,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
and  he  looked  back  at  it  lingeringly  as  they  came  out  into  the 
road  and  approached  the  rest  of  the  party. 

"  Have  you  lost  anything,  Burt?"  cried  Amy,  laughing. 

"  No,  but  I've  found  something.  See  this  superb  bunch  of 
maiden  hair.  That  spot  should  be  marked  for  future  supplies. 
Miss  Hargrove  will  share  with  you,  for  you  can't  have  anything 
so  fine  as  this." 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  have,  and  I  shall  call  you  and  Webb  to  ac- 
count if  you  do  not  to-day  make  Gertrude  fare  as  well." 

Both  Miss  Hargrove  and  Burt  were  bewildered.  There  was 
lurking"  mischief  in  Amy's  eyes  when  she  first  spoke,  and  yet 
she  used  her  influence  to  keep  Burt  in  her  friend's  society. 
Her  spirits  seemed  too  exuberant  to  b^  natural,  and  Miss  Har- 
grove, who  was  an  adept  at  hiding  her  feelings  under  a  mask  of 
gayety,  surmised  that  Amy's  feminine  instincts  had  taught  her 
to  employ  the  same  tactics.  Conscious  of  their  secret,  Miss 
Hargrove  and  Burt  both  thought,  "  Perhaps  it  is  her  purpose  to 
throw  us  together  as  far  as  possible,  and  learn  the  truth." 

Amy  had  a  kinder  purpose  than  they  imagined.  She  wanted 
no  more  of  Burl's  forced  allegiance,  and  was  much  too  good- 
natured  to  permit  mere  pique  to  cause  unhappiness  to  others. 
"  Let  Gertrude  win  him  if  she  cares  for  him,"  was  her  thought, 


400  NATURES  SERIAL  STORY, 

"and  if  'she  can't  hold  him  his  case  is  hopeless."  She  could  not 
resist  the  temptation,  however,  to  tease  Burt  a  little. 

But  he  gave  her  slight  chance  for  the  next  few  hours.  Her 
mirthful  question  and  the  glance  accompanying  it  had  put  him 
on  his  guard  again,  and  he  at  once  became  the  gay  cavalier- 
general  he  had  resolved  on  being  throughout  the  day. 

They  made  a  long  pause  to  enjoy  the  view  looking  out  upon 
Constitution  Island,  West  Point,  the  southern  mountains,  and 
the  winding  river,  dotted  here  and  there  with  sails,  and  with 
steamers,  seemingly  held  motionless  by  their  widely  separated 
train  of  canal  boats. 

"What  mountain  is  this  that  we  are  now  to  descend?"  Miss 
Hargrove  asked. 

"  Cro'  Nest,"  Burt  replied.  "  It's  the  first  high  mountain  that 
abuts  on  the  river  above  West  Point,  you  will  remember." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  I  have  a  song  relating  to  it,  and  will 
give  you  a  verse ;  "  and  she  sang  : 

" '  Where  Hudson's  waves  o'er  silvery  sands 

Wind  through  the  hills  afar, 
And  Cro'  Nest  like  a  monarch  stands, 
Crowned  with  a  single  star.' " 

After  a  round  of  applause  had  subsided,  Burt,  whose  eyes  had 
been  more  demonstrative  than  his  hands,  said,  "  That's  by  Mor- 
ris. We  can  see  from  Fort  Putnam  his  old  home  under  Mount 
Taurus." 

"  I  know.  He  is  the  poet  who  entreated  the  woodman  to 
'  spare  that  tree.'  " 

"  Which  the  woodman  will  never  do,"  Webb  remarked, 
"unless  compelled  by  law;  nor  even  then,  I  fear." 

"  Oh,  Webb  ! "  cried  Amy,  "  with  what  a  thump  you  drop 
into  prose  ! " 

"  I  also  advise  an  immediate  descent  of  the  mountain  if  we 
are  to  have  any  time  at  Fort  Putnam,"  he  added.  "  I'll  walk 
on." 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  401 

They  were  soon  winding  down  the  S's  by  which  the  road 
overcame  the  steep  declivity.  On  reaching  a  plateau,  before 
the  final  descent,  they  came  across  a  wretched  hovel,  gray  and 
storm-beaten,  with  scarcely  strength  to  stand.  Rags  took  the 
place  of  broken  glass  in  the  windows.  A  pig  was  rooting  near 
the  door-step,  on  which  stood  a  slatternly  woman,  regarding 
the  party  with  dull  curiosity. 

"  Talk  about  the  elevating  influence  of  mountain  scenery  !  " 
said  Miss  Hargrove  ;  "there's  a  commentary  on  the  theory." 

"  The  theory's  correct,"  persisted  Burt.  "  Their  height  above 
tide-water  and  the  amount  of  bad  whiskey  they  consume  keep 
our  mountaineers  elevated  most  of  the  time." 

"Does  Lumley  live  in  a  place  like  that?"  Miss  Hargrove 
asked. 

"He  did — in  a  worse  one,  if  possible,"  Webb  replied  for 
Amy,  who  hesitated.  "  But  you  should  see  how  it  is  changed. 
He  now  has  a  good  vegetable  garden  fenced  in,  a  rustic  porch 
covered  with  American  ivy,  and  —  would  you  believe  it  ?  —  an 
actual  flower-bed.  Within  the  hut  there  are  two  pictures  on 
the  wall,  and  the  baby  creeps  on  a  carpeted  floor.  Lumley 
says  Amy  is  making  a  man  of  him." 

"  You  forget  to  mention  how  much  you  have  helped  me," 
Amy  added. 

"  Come,  let  us  break  up  this  mutual  admiration  society," 
said  Burt.  "  I'm  ready  for  lunch  already,  and  Fort  Putnam  is 
miles  away." 

The  road  from  the  foot  of  the  mountain  descends  gradually 
through  wild,  beautiful  scenery  to  West  Point.  Cro'  Nest  rises 
abruptly  on  the  left,  and  there  is  a  wooded  valley  on  the  right, 
with  mountains  beyond.  The  tree's  overhung  the  road  with  a 
canopy  of  gold,  emerald,  and  crimson  foliage,  and  the  sunlight 
came  to  the  excursionists  as  through  stained-glass  windows. 
Taking  a  side  street  at  the  back  of  the  military  post,  they  soon 
reached  a  point  over  which  frowned  the  ruins  of  the  fort,  and 
here  they  left  their  horses.  After  a  brief  climb  to  the  north- 


402  A'ATCXE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

ward  they  entered  on  an  old  road,  grass-grown  and  leaf-carpeted, 
and  soon  passed  through  the  gaping  sally-port,  on  either  side 
of  which  cone-like  cedars  stood  as  sentinels.  Within  the  fort 
Nature  had  been  busy  for  a  century  softening  and  obliterating 
the  work  of  man.  Cedar-trees  —  some  of  which  were  dying 
from  age  —  grew  everywhere,  even  on  the  crumbling  ramparts. 
Except  where  ledges  of  the  native  rock  cropped  out,  the  ground 
was  covered  with  a  thick  sward.  Near  the  centre  of  the  en- 
closure is  the  rocky  basin.  In  it  bubbles  the  spring  at  which 
the  more  temperate  of  the  ancient  garrison  may  have  softened 
the  asperities  of  their  New  England  rum. 

The  most  extensive  ruins  are  seen  by  turning  sharply  to  the 
left  from  the  sally-port.  Here,  yawning  like  caverns,  their 
entrances  partially  choked  by  the  debris,  are  six  casemates,  or 
vaults.  They  were  built  of  brick,  covered  with  stone,  and  are 
eighteen  feet  deep  and  twelve  wide,  with  an  arched  roof  twelve 
feet  high.  On  the  level  rampart  above  them  were  long,  with- 
ered grass,  the  wild  dwarf-rose,  and  waving  golden-rod.  The 
outer  walls,  massy  and  crumbling,  or  half  torn  away  by  Vandal 
hands,  were  built  in  angles,  according  to  the  engineering  sci- 
ence of  the  Revolution,  except  on  the  west,  where  the  high 
ramparts  surmount  a  mural  perpendicular  precipice  fifty  feet  in 
height.  Inland,  across  the  valley,  the  mountains  were  seen, 
rising  like  rounded  billows  in  every  direction,  while  from  the 
north,  east,  and  south  the  windings  of  the  Hudson  were  visible 
for  fifteen  miles. 

All  but  Amy  had  visited  the  spot  before,  and  Burt  explored 
the  place  with  her  while  the  rest  prepared  for  lunch.  She  had 
asked  Gertrude  to  accompany  them,  but  the  latter  had  sought 
refuge  with  Maggie,  and  at  her  side  she  proposed  to  remain. 
She  scarcely  dared  trust  herself  with  Burt,  and  as  the  day 
advanced  he  certainly  permitted  his  eyes  to  express  an  interest 
that  promised  ill  for  his  inexorable  purpose  of  constancy. 

It  had  become  clear  to  Miss  Hargrove  that  he  was  restrained 
by  something  that  had  occurred  between  him  and  Amy,  and 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  403 

both  her  pride  and  her  sense  of  truth  to  her  friend  decided  her 
to  withdraw  as  far  as  possible  from  his  society,  and  to  return  to 
the  city. 

She  and  Burt  vied  with  each  other  in  gayety  at  lunch.  When 
it  was  over  they  all  grouped  themselves  in  the  shade  of  a  clump 
of  cedars,  and  looked  away  upon  the  wide  prospect,  Webb 
pointing  out  objects  of  past  and  present  interest.  Alf  and 
Fred  speedily  grew  restless  and  started  off  with  the  gun,  John- 
nie's head  sank  into  her  mother's  lap,  Miss  Hargrove  and  Burt 
grew  quiet  and  pre-occupied,  their  eyes  looking  off  into  vacancy. 
Webb  was  saying,  "  By  one  who  had  imagination  how  much 
more  could  be  seen  from  this  point  than  meets  the  eye  !  There, 
on  the  plain  below  us,  would  rise  the  magnificent  rustic  colon- 
nade two  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long  and  eighty  feet  wide, 
beneath  which  Washington  gave  the  great  banquet  in  honor  of 
the  birth  of  the  Dauphin  of  France,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
same  day  these  hills  blazed  with  musketry  and  rolled  back 
the  thunder  of  cannon  with  which  the  festivities  of  the  evening 
were  begun.  Think  of  the  '  Father  of  his  Country  '  being  there 
in  flesh  and  blood,  just  as  we  are  here  !  In  the  language  of  an 
old  military  journal, '  He  carried  down  a  dance  of  twenty  couple 
on  the  green  grass,  with  a  graceful  and  dignified  air,  having 
Mrs.  Knox  for  his  partner.'  In  almost  a  direct  line  across  the 
river  you  can  see  the  Beverly  Robinson  house,  from  which 
Arnold  carried  on  his  correspondence  with  Andre\  You  can 
look  into  the  window  of  the  room  to  which,  after  hearing  of 
the  capture  of  Andr£,  he  hastened  from  the  breakfast-table. 
To  this  upper  room  he  immediately  summoned  his  wife,  who 
had  been  the  beautiful  Margaret  Shippen,  you  remember,  and 
told  her  of  his  awful  peril,  then  rushed  away,  leaving  the  poor, 
terror-stricken  woman  unconscious  on  the  floor.  Would  you 
not  like  to  look  through  the  glass  at  the  house  where  the 
tragedy  occurred,  Miss  Hargrove?" 

At  the  sound  of  her  name  the  young  girl  started  visibly,  and 
Webb  saw  that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes ;  but  she  complied 


404  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

without  a  word,  and  he  so  directed  the  glass  that  it  covered 
the  historic  mansion. 

"  How  full  of  sensibility  she  is  !  "  thought  innocent  Webb, 
taking  her  quickly  suppressed  emotion  as  a  tribute  to  his  moving 
reminiscences. 

"  Oh,  Webb,  have  done  with  your  lugubrious  ancient  his- 
tory !  "  cried  Burt,  springing  up. 

"  It's  time  we  were  getting  ready  for  a  homeward  move," 
said  Maggie.  "  I'll  go  and  pack  the  things." 

"And  I'll  help  you,"  added  Miss  Hargrove,  hastily  following 
her. 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  house,  too,"  said  Amy,  taking  the  glass ; 
then  added,  after  a  moment :  "  Poor  Margaret  Arnold  !  It  was 
indeed  a  tragedy,  as  you  said,  Webb  —  a  sadder  one  than  these 
old  military  preparations  can  suggest.  In  all  his  career  of  war 
and  treachery  Arnold  never  inflicted  a  more  cruel  wound." 

"  How  much  feeling  Miss  Hargrove  showed  ! "  Webb  re- 
marked, musingly. 

,  "  Yes,"  said  Amy,  quietly,  " she  was  evidently  feeling  deeply.". 
Her  thought  was,  "  I  don't  believe  she  heard  a  word  that  Webb 
said."  Then,  seeing  that  Burt  was  helping  Maggie  and  Miss 
Hargrove,  she  added,  "Please  point  out  to  me  some  other 
interesting  places." 

Webb,  well  pleased,  talked  on  to  a  listener  who  did  not  give 
him  her  whole  attention.  She  could  not  forget  Gertrude's 
paleness,  and  her  alternations  from  extreme  gayety  to  a  look 
of  such  deep  sadness  as  to  awaken  not  a  little  sympathetic 
curiosity.  Amy  loved  her  friend  truly,  and  it  did  not  seem 
strange  to  her  that  Miss  Hargrove  was  deeply  interested  in 
Burt,  since  they  had  been  much  thrown  together,  and  since  she 
probably  owed  her  life  to  him.  Amy's  resentment  towards 
Burt  had  passed  away.  She  had  found  that  her  pride,  merely, 
and  not  her  heart,  was  wounded  by  his  new  passion,  and  she 
already  began  to  feel  that  she  never  could  have  any  such  regard 
for  him  as  her  friend  was  possibly  cherishing.  Therefore  it  was, 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  40$ 

perhaps,  not  unnatural  that  her  tranquil  regard  should  prove 
unsatisfying  to  Burt  in  contrast  with  the  passion  of  which  Miss 
Hargrove  was  capable.  She  had  seen  his  vain  efforts  to  remain 
loyal,  and  had  smiled  at  them,  proposing  to  let  matters  take 
their  course,  and  to  give  little  aid  in  extricating  him  from  his 
dilemma.  But,  if  she  had  interpreted  her  friend's  face  aright, 
she  could  no  longer  stand  aloof,  an  amused  and  slightly  satirical 
spectator.  If  Burt  deserved  some  punishment,  Gertrude  did 
not,  and  she  was  inclined  to  guess  the  cause  of  the  latter's  haste 
to  return  to  the  city. 

It  may  thus  be  seen  that  Amy  was  fast  losing  her  unsophisti- 
cated girlhood.  While  Burt's  passionate  words  had  awakened 
no  corresponding  feeling,  they  had  taught  her  that  she  was  no 
longer  a  child,  since  she  could  inspire  such  words.  Her  inti- 
macy with  Miss  Hargrove,  and  the  latter's  early  confidences, 
had  enlarged  her  ideas  on  some  subjects.  As  the  bud  of  a 
flower  passes  slowly  through  long  and  apparently  slow  stages 
of  immaturity  and  at  last  suddenly  opens  to  the  light,  so  she 
had  reached  that  age  when  a  little  experience  suggests  a  great 
deal,  and  the  influences  around  her  tended  to  develop  certain 
thoughts  very  rapidly.  She  saw  that  her  friend  had  not  been 
brought  up  in  English  seclusion.  Admirers  by  the  score  had 
flocked  around  her,  and,  as  she  had  often  said,  she  proposed 
to  marry  for  love.  "  I  have  the  name  of  being  cold,"  she  once 
told  Amy,  "  but  I  know  I  can  love  as  can  few  others,  and  I 
shall  know  it  well  when  I  do  love,  too."  The  truth  was  daily 
growing  clearer  to  Amy  that  under  our  vivid  American  skies 
the  grand  passion  is  not  a  fiction  of  romance  or  a  quiet  arrange- 
ment between  the  parties  concerned. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  not  misjudged  herself.  Her  tropical 
nature,  when  once  kindled,  burned  with  no  feeble,  wavering 
flame.  She  had  passed  the  point  of  criticism  of  Burt.  She 
loved  him,  and  to  her  fond  eyes  he  seemed  more  worthy  of  her 
love  than  any  man  she  had  ever  before  known.  But  she  had 
not  passed  beyond  her  sense  of  truth  and  duty,  and  the  feeling 


406  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

came  to  her  that  she  must  go  away  at  once  and  engage  in  that 
most  pathetic  of  all  struggles  that  fall  to  woman's  lot.  As  the 
conviction  grew  clear  on  this  bright  October  day,  she  felt  that 
her  heart  was  bleeding  internally.  Tears  would  come  into  her 
eyes  at  the  dreary  prospect.  Her  former  brilliant  society  life 
now  looked  as  does  an  opera-house  in  the  morning,  when  the 
gilding  and  tinsel  that  flashed  and  sparkled  the  evening  before 
are  seen  to  be  dull  and  tarnished.  Burt  had  appeared  to  es- 
pecial advantage  in  his  mountain  home.  He  excelled  in  all 
manly  sports.  His  tall,  fine  figure  and  unconscious,  easy  man- 
ner were  as  full  of  grace  as  deficient  in  conventionality,  and  she 
thought  with  disgust  of  many  of  her  former  admirers,  who  were 
nothing  if  not  stylish  after  the  arbitrary  mode  of  the  hour.  At 
the  same  time  he  had  proved  that  he  could  be  at  home  in  a 
drawing-room  on  the  simple  ground  of  good-breeding,  and  not 
because  he  had  been  run  through  fashion's  latest  mould.  The 
grand  scenery  around  her  suggested  the  manhood  that  kindled 
her  imagination  —  a  manhood  strong,  fearless,  and  not  degen- 
erated from  that  sturdy  age  which  had  made  these  scenes 
historic. 

By  the  time  they  were  ready  to  start  homeward  the  southern 
side  of  Cro'  Nest  was  in  deep  blue  shadow.  They  bowled 
along  rapidly  till  they  came  to  the  steep  ascent,  and  then  the 
boys  and  the  young  men  sprang  out.  "  Would  you  like  to 
walk,  Gertrude?"  Amy  asked,  for  she  was  bent  on  throwing 
her  friend  and  Burt  together  during  the  witching  twilight  that 
was  coming  on  apace. 

"  I  fear  I  am  too  tired,  unless  the  load  is  heavy,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Webb.  "  It  does  not  take  long  to 
reach  the  top  of  the  mountain  on  this  side,  and  then  it's  chiefly 
down  hill  the  rest  of  the  way." 

Amy,  who  had  been  sitting  with  Webb  and  Johnnie  as  be- 
fore, said  to  Miss  Hargrove,  "  Won't  you  step  across  the  seats 
and  keep  me  company?" 

She  complied,  but  not  willingly.     She  was  so  utterly  unhappy 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  407 

that  she  wished  to  be  left  to  herself  as  far  as  possible.  In  her 
realization  of  a  loss  that  seemed  immeasurable,  she  was  a  little 
resentful  towards  Amy,  feeling  that  she  had  been  more  frank 
and  confidential  than  her  friend.  If  Amy  had  claims  on  Burt, 
why  had  she  not  spoken  of  them  ?  why  had  she  permitted  her 
for  whom  she  professed  such  strong  friendship  to  drift  almost 
wholly  unwarned  upon  so  sad  a  fate  ?  and  why  was  she  now 
clearly  trying  to  bring  together  Burt  and  the  one  to  whom  even 
he  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  speak  in  more  than  a  friendly 
manner?  While  she  was  making  such  immense  sacrifices  to  be 
true,  she  felt  that  Amy  was  maintaining  an  unfair  reticence,  if 
not  actually  beguiling  herself  and  Burt  into  a  display  of  weak- 
ness for  which  they  would  be  condemned  —  or,  at  least,  he 
would  be,  and  love  identifies  itself  with  its  object.  These 
thoughts,  having  once  been  admitted,  grew  upon  her  mind 
rapidly,  for  it  is  hard  to  suffer  through  another  and  maintain  a 
gentle  charity.  Therefore  she  was  silent  when  she  took  her 
seat  by  Amy,  and  when  the  latter  gave  her  a  look  that  was  like 
a  caress,  she  did  not  return  it. 

"You  are  tired,  Gertrude,"  Amy  began,  gently.  "  Indeed, 
you  look  ill.  You  must  stay  with  me  to-night,  and  I'll  watch 
over  you  like  Sairy  Gamp." 

So  far  from  responding  to  Amy's  playful  and  friendly  words, 
Miss  Hargrove  said,  hastily, 

"  Oh,  no,  I  had  better  go  right  on  home.  I  don't  feel  very 
well,  and  shall  be  better  at  home ;  and  I  must  begin  to  get 
ready  to-morrow  for  my  return  to  the  city." 

Amy  would  not  be  repulsed,  but,  putting  her  arm  around  her 
friend,  she  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  asked  : 

"  Why  are  you  so  eager  to  return  to  New  York  ?  Are  you 
tiring  of  your  country  friends?  You  certainly  told  me  that 
you  expected  to  stay  till  November." 

"  Fred  must  go  back  to  school  to-morrow,"  said  Gertrude, 
in  a  constrained  voice,  "  and  I  do  not  think  it  is  well  to  leave 
him  alone  in  the  city  house." 


408  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"You  are  withdrawing  your  confidence  from  me,"  said  Amy, 
sadly. 

"Have  you  ever  truly  given  me  yours?"  was  the  low,  im- 
petuous response.  "  No.  If  you  had,  I  should  not  be  the  un- 
happy girl  I  am  to-night.  Well,  since  you  wish  to  know  the 
whole  truth  you  shall.  You  said  you  could  trust  me  implicitly, 
and  I  promised  to  deserve  your  trust.  If  you  had  said  to  me 
that  Burt  was  bound  to  you  when  I  told  you  that  I  was  heart- 
whole  and  fancy-free,  I  should  have  been  on  my  guard.  Is  it 
natural  that  I  should  be  indifferent  to  the  man  who  risked  his 
life  to  save  mine  ?  Why  have  you  left  me  so  long  in  his  society 
without  a  hint  of  warning?  But  I  shall  keep  my  word.  I  shall 
not  try  to  snatch  happiness  from  another." 

Johnnie's  tuneful  little  voice  was  piping  a  song,  and  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels  over  a  stony  road  prevented  Maggie,  on 
the  last  seat,  from  hearing  anything. 

The  clasp  of  Amy's  arm  tightened.  "  Now  you  shall  stay 
with  me  to-night,"  she  said.  "  I  cannot  explain  here  and  now. 
See,  Burt  has  turned,  and  is  coming  towards  us.  I  pledge  you 
my  word  he  can  never  be  to  me  more  than  a  brother.  I  do  not 
love  him  except  as  a  brother,  and  never  have,  and  you  can 
snatch  no  happiness  from  me,  except  by  treating  me  with  dis- 
trust and  going  away." 

"Oh,  Amy,"  began  Miss  Hargrove,  in  tones  and  with  a  look 
that  gave  evidence  of  the  chaotic  bewilderment  of  her  mind. 

"  Hush  !  We  are  not  very  lonely,  thank  you,  Mr.  Burt.  You 
look,  as  far  as  I  can  see  you  through  the  dusk,  as  if  you  were 
commiserating  us  as  poor  forlorn  creatures,  but  we  have  some 
resources  within  ourselves." 

"  The  dusk  is,  indeed,  misleading.  We  are  the  forlorn  crea- 
tures who  have  no  resources.  Won't  you  please  take  us  in  ?  " 

"Take  you  in  !  What  do  you  take  us  for?  I  assure  you  we 
are  very  simple,  honest  people." 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  have  no  fears,  but  clamber  in  at  once. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  on  a  twenty-mile  tramp." 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  409 

"  What  an  implied  compliment  to  our  exhilarating  society  !  " 

"Indeed  there  is  —  a  very  strong  one.  I've  been  so  im- 
mensely exhilarated  that,  in  the  re-action,  I'm  almost  faint." 

"  Maggie,"  cried  Amy,  "  do  take  care  of  Burt ;  he's  going  to 
faint." 

"  He  must  wait  till  we  come  to  the  next  brook,  and  then  we'll 
put  him  in  it." 

"Webb,"  said  Amy,  looking  over  her  shoulder  at  the  young 
man,  who  was  now  following  the  carriage,  "  is  there  anything 
the  matter  with  you,  also?  " 

"  Nothing  more  than  usual." 

"  Oh,  your  trouble,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  chronic.  Well, 
well,  to  think  that  we  poor  women  may  be  the  only  survivors  of 
this  tremendous  expedition." 

"That  would  be  most  natural — ^the  survival  of  the  fittest, 
you  know." 

"I  don't  think  your  case  serious.  Science  is  uppermost  in 
your  mind,  as  ever.  You  ought  to  live  a  thousand  years,  Webb, 
to  see  the  end  of  all  your  theories." 

"  I  fear  it  wouldn't  be  the  millennium  for  me,  and  that  I 
should  have  more  perplexing  theories  at  its  end  than  now." 

"That's  the  way  with  men  —  they  are  never  satisfied,"  re- 
marked Miss  Hargrove.  "  Mr.  Clifford,  this  is  your  expedition, 
and  it's  getting  so  dark  that  I  shall  feel  safer  if  you  are  driving." 

"  Oh,  Gertrude,  you  have  no  confidence  in  me  whatever.  As 
if  I  would  break  your  neck — or  heart  either  !"  Amy  whispered 
in  her  friend's  ear. 

"You  are  a  very  mysterious  little  woman,"  was  the  reply, 
given  in  like  manner,  "  and  need  hours  of  explanation."  Then, 
to  Webb :  "  Mr.  Clifford,  I've  much  more  confidence  in  you 
than  in  Amy.  Her  talk  is  so  giddy  that  I  want  a  sober  hand 
on  the  reins." 

"To  which  Mr.  Clifford  do  you  refer?"  asked  Burt. 

"  Oh,  are  you  reviving  ?  I  thought  you  had  become  un- 
conscious." 


410  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

"  I'm  not  wholly  past  feeling." 

"I  want  one  to  drive  who  can  see  his  way,  not  feel  it,"  was 
the  laughing  response. 

Amy,  too,  was  laughing  silently,  as  she  reined  in  the  horses. 
"What  are  you  two  girls  giggling  about?"  said  Burt,  becoming 
a  little  uncomfortable.  "  The  idea  of  two  such  refined  creatures 


"  Well,"  exclaimed  Webb,  "  what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  can't  stand 
up  between  you  and  drive." 

"  Gertrude,  you  must  clamber  around  and  sustain  Burt's 
drooping  spirits." 

"  Indeed,  Amy,  you  must  know  best  how  to  do  that,"  was 
the  reply.  "As  guest,  I  claim  a  little  of  the  society  of  the 
commander-in-chief.  You  had  it  coming  over." 

"  I'll  solve  the  vexed  question,"  said  Burt,  much  nettled,  and 
leaping  out. 

"Now,  Burt,  the  question  isn't  vexed,  and  don't  you  be," 
cried  Amy,  springing  lightly  over  to  the  next  seat.  "  There  are 
Fred  and  Alf,  too,  with  the  gun.  Let  us  all  get  home  as  soon 
as  possible,  for  it's  nearly  time  for  supper  already.  Come,  I 
shall  feel  much  hurt  if  you  don't  keep  me  company." 

Burt  at  once  realized  the  absurdity  of  showing  pique,  al- 
though he  felt  that  there  was  something  in  the  air  which  he  did 
not  understand.  He  came  back  laughing,  with  much  apparent 
good-nature,  and  saying,  "  I  thought  I'd  soon  bring  one  or  the 
other  of  you  to  terms." 

"  Oh,  what  a  diplomat  you  are  !  "  said  Amy,  with  difficulty 
restraining  a  new  burst  of  merriment. 

They  soon  reached  the  summit,  and  paused  to  give  the  horses 
a  breathing.  The  young  moon  hung  in  the  west,  and  its  silver 
crescent  symbolized  to  Miss  Hargrove  the  hope  that  was  grow- 
ing in  her  heart.  "Amy,"  she  said,  "don't  you  remember  the 
song  we  arranged  from  '  The  Culprit  Fay  '  ?  We  certainly 
should  sing  it  here  on  this  mountain.  You  take  the  solo." 

Amy  sang,  in  clear  soprano  : 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION.  411 

" '  The  moon  looks  down  on  old  Cro'  Nest, 
»  She  mellows  the  shades  on  his  shaggy  breast, 

And  seems  his  huge  gray  form  to  throw 
In  a  silver  cone  on  the  wave  below.' " 

"  Imagine  the  cone  and  wave,  please,"  said  Miss  Hargrove ; 
and  then,  in  an  alto  rich  with  her  heart's  deep  feeling,  she  sang 
with  Amy  : 

" '  Ouphe  and  goblin !  imp  and  sprite  ! 

Elf  of  eve  !  and  starry  fay  ! 
Ye  that  love  the  moon's  soft  light, 
Hither  —  hither  wend  your  way  ; 
Twine  ye  in  a  jocund  ring ; 
Sing  and  trip  it  merrily, 
Hand  to  hand  and  wing  to  wing, 
Round  the  wild  witch-hazel  tree.'" 

"  If  I  were  a  goblin,  I'd  come,  for  music  like  that,"  cried 
Burt,  as  they  started  rapidly  homeward. 

"You  are  much  too  big  to  suggest  a  culprit  fay,"  said  Amy. 

"  But  the  description  of  the  fay's  charmer  is  your  portrait," 
he  replied,  in  a  low  tone  : 

" '  But  well  I  know  her  sinless  mind 

Is  pure  as  the  angel  forms  above, 

Gentle  and  meek,  and  chaste  and  kind, 

Such  as  a  spirit  well  might  love.'" 

"  Oh,  no ;  you  are  mistaken,  I'm  not  meek  in  the  least. 
Think  of  the  punishment : 

" '  Tied  to  the  hornet's  shardy  wings, 
Toss'd  on  the  pricks  of  nettles'  stings  ; ' 

you  know  the  rest." 

"  What  witchery  has  got  into  you  to-night,  Amy?  " 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  witch?     Beware,  then.     Witches  can 

read  men's  thoughts." 


412  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  That  last  song  was  so  good  that  I,  for  one,  would  be  glad 
of  more,"  cried  Webb. 

"  You  men  must  help  us,  then,"  said  Miss  Hargrove,  and  in 
a  moment  the  wild,  dim  forest  was  full  of  melody,  the  rocks 
and  highlands  sending  back  soft  and  unheeded  echoes. 

Burt,  meantime,  was  occupied  with  disagreeable  reflections. 
Perhaps  both  the  girls  at  last  understood  him,  and  had  been 
comparing  notes,  to  his  infinite  disadvantage.  His  fickleness 
and  the  dilemma  he  was  in  may  have  become  a  jest  between 
them.  What  could  he  do  ?  Resentment,  except  against  him- 
self, was  impossible.  If  Amy  understood  him,  in  what  other 
way  could  she  meet  any  approach  to  sentiment  on  his  part  than 
by  a  laughing  scorn  ?  If  Miss  Hargrove  had  divined  the  past, 
or  had  received  a  hint  concerning  it,  why  should  she  not  shun 
his  society?  He  was  half- desperate,  and  yet  felt  that  any  show 
of  embarrassment  or  anger  would  only  make  him  appear  more 
ridiculous.  The  longer  he  thought  the  more  sure  he  was  that 
the  girls  were  beginning  to  guess  his  position,  and  that  his  only 
course  was  a  polite  indifference  to  both.  But  this  policy  prom- 
ised to  lead  through  a  thorny  path,  and  to  what?  In  impotent 
rage  at  himself  he  ground  his  teeth  during  the  pauses  between 
the  stanzas  that  he  was  compelled  to  sing.  Such  was  the  dis- 
,cord  in  his  heart  that  he  felt  like  uttering  notes  that  would 
make  "  night  hideous." 

He  was  still  more  distraught  when,  on  their  return,  they 
found  Mr.  Hargrove's  carriage  in  waiting,  and  Amy,  after  a 
brief  conference  with  her  friend  in  her  room,  came  down  pre- 
pared to  accompany  Miss  Hargrove  home  after  supper.  In 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  at  ease  and  gayety,  his  embarrassment 
and  trouble  were  evident.  He  had  observed  Miss  Hargrove's 
pallor  and  her  effort  to  keep  up  at  Fort  Putnam,  and  could  not 
banish  the  hope  that  she  sympathized  with  him ;  but  now  the 
young  girl  was  demurely  radiant.  Her  color  had  come  again, 
and  the  lustre  of  her  beautiful  eyes  was  dazzling.  Yet  they 
avoided  his,  and  she  had  far  more  to  say  to  Webb  and  the 


WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION,  413 

others  than  to  him.  Webb,  too,  was  perplexed,  for  during  the 
day  Amy  had  been  as  bewildering  to  him  as  to  Burt.  But  he 
was  in  no  uncertainty  as  to  his  course,  which  was  simply  to  wait. 
He,  with  Burt,  saw  the  girls  to  the  carriage,  and  the  latter  said 
good-night  rather  coldly  and  stiffly.  Alf  and  Fred  parted 
regretfully,  with  the  promise  of  a  correspondence  which  would 
be  as  remarkable  for  its  orthography  as  for  its  natural  history. 


414  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   LII. 
BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA. 

MR.  HARGROVE  greeted  Amy  cordially,  but  his  ques- 
tioning eyes  rested  oftenest  on  his  daughter.  Her  ex- 
pression and  manner  caused  him  to  pace  his  study  long  and 
late  that  night.  Mrs.  Hargrove  was  very  polite  and  a  little 
stately.  She  felt  that  she  existed  on  a  plane  above  Amy. 

The  young  girls  soon  pleaded  fatigue,  and  retired.  Once  in 
the  seclusion  of  their  room  they  forgot  all  about  their  innocent 
fib,  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  weariness  in  their  manner. 
While  Burt  was  staring  at  his  dismal,  tangled  fortune,  seeing  no 
solution  of  his  difficulties,  a  fateful  conference  relating  to  him 
was  taking  place.  Amy  did  not  look  like  a  scorner,  as  with  a 
sister's  love  and  a  woman's  tact  she  pleaded  his  cause  and 
palliated  his  course  to  one  incapable  of  harsh  judgment.  But 
she  felt  that  she  must  be  honest  with  her  friend,  and  that  the 
whole  truth  would  be  best  and  safest.  Her  conclusion  was : 
"  No  man  who  loved  you,  and  whom  you  encouraged,  would 
ever  change.  I  know  now  that  I  never  had  a  particle  of  such 
feeling  as  you  have  for  Burt,  and  can  see  that  I  naturally  chilled 
and  quenched  his  regard  for  me." 

Miss  Hargrove's  dark  eyes  flashed  ominously  as  she  spoke 
of  Burt  or  of  any  man  proving  faithless  after  she  had  given 
encouragement. 

"  But  it  wasn't  possible  for  me  to  give  him  any  real  en- 
couragement," Amy  persisted.  "  I've  never  felt  as  you  do,  and 
am  not  sure  that  I  want  to  for  a  long  time." 


BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA.  415 

"How  about  Webb?"  Miss  Hargrove  almost  said,  but  she 
suppressed  the  words,  feeling  that  since  he  had  not  revealed  his 
secret  she  had  no  right  to  do  so.  Indeed,  as  she  recalled  how 
sedulously  he  had  guarded  it  she  was  sure  he  would  not  thank 
her  for  suggesting  it  to  Amy  before  she  was  ready  for  the 
knowledge.  Impetuous  as  Miss  Hargrove  was  at  times,  she 
had  too  fine  a  nature  to  be  careless  of  the  rights  and  feelings 
of  others.  Moreover,  she  felt  that  Webb  had  been  her  ally, 
whether  consciously  or  not,  and  he  should  have  his  chance  with 
all  the  help  she  could  give  him,  but  she  was  wise  enough  to 
know  that  obtrusion  and  premature  aid  are  often  disastrous. 

The  decision,  after  this  portentous  conference,  was  :  "  Mr. 
Burt  must  seek  me,  and  seek  very  zealously.  I  know  you  well 
enough,  Amy,  to  be  sure  that  you  will  give  him  no  hints.  It's 
bad  enough  to  love  a  man  before  I've  been  asked  to  do  so. 
What  an  utterly  perverse  and  unmanageable  thing  one's  heart 
is  !  I  shall  do  no  angling,  however,  nor  shall  I  permit  any." 

"You  may  stand  up  straight,  Gertrude,"  said  Amy,  laughing, 
"  but  don't  lean  over  backward." 

Burt  entertained  half  a  dozen  wild  and  half-tragic  projects 
before  he  fell  asleep  late  that  night,  but  finally,  in  utter  self- 
disgust,  settled  down  on  the  prosaic  and  not  irrational  one 
of  helping  through  with  the  fall  work  on  the  farm,  and  then  of 
seeking  some  business  or  profession  to  which  he  could  give  his 
whole  mind.  "  As  to  ladies'  society,"  he  concluded,  savagely, 
"  I'll  shun  it  hereafter  till  I'm  grown  up." 

Burt  always  attained  a  certain  kind  of  peace  and  the  power 
to  sleep  after  he  had  reached  an  irrevocable  decision. 

During  the  night  the  wind  veered  to  the  east,  and  a  cold, 
dismal  rain-storm  set  in.  Dull  and  dreary  indeed  the  day 
proved  to  Burt.  He  could  not  go  out  and  put  his  resolution 
into  force.  He  fumed  about  the  house,  restless,  yet  reticent. 
He  would  rather  have  fought  dragons  than  keep  company  with 
his  own  thoughts  in  inaction.  All  the  family  supposed  he  missed 
Amy,  except  Webb,  who  hoped  he  missed  some  one  else. 


416  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"Why  don't  you  go  over  and  bring  Amy  home,  Burt?"  his 
mother  asked,  at  the  dinner-table.  "  The  house  seems  empty 
without  her,  and  everybody  is  moping.  Even  father  has  fretted 
over  his  newspaper,  and  wished  Amy  was  here." 

"  Why  can't  they  print  an  edition  of  the  paper  for  old  men 
and  dark  days?"  said  the  old  gentleman,  discontentedly. 

"Well,"  remarked  Leonard,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and 
looking  humorously  at  Maggie,  "  I'm  sorry  for  you  young  fel- 
lows, but  I'm  finding  the  day  serene." 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  snapped  Burt.  "  With  an  arm-chair  to 
doze  in  and  a  dinner  to  look  forward  to,  what  more  do  you 
wish  ?  As  for  Webb,  he  can  always  get  astride  of  some  scien- 
tific hobby,  no  matter  how  bad  the  weather  is." 

"As  for  Burt,  he  can  bring  Amy  home,  and  then  every  one 
will  be  satisfied,"  added  his  mother,  smiling. 

Thus  a  new  phase  of  his  trial  presented  itself  to  poor  Burt. 
He  must  either  face  those  two  girls  after  their  night's  conclave, 
with  all  its  possible  revelations,  or  else  awaken  at  once  very 
embarrassing  surmises.  Why  shouldn't  he  go  for  Amy?  all 
would  ask.  "Well,  why  shouldn't  I?"  he  thought.  "I  may 
as  well  face  it  out."  And  in  a  mood  of  mingled  recklessness 
and  fear  he  drove  through  the  storm.  When  his  name  was 
announced  the  girls  smiled  significantly,  but  went  down  looking 
as  unconscious  as  if  they  had  not  spoken  of  him  in  six  months, 
and  Burt  could  not  have  been  more  suave,  non-committal,  and 
impartially  polite  if  these  ladies  had  been  as  remote  from  his 
thoughts  as  one  of  Webb's  theories.  At  the  same  time  he 
intimated  that  he  would  be  ready  to  return  when  Amy  was. 

At  parting  the  friends  gave  each  other  a  little  look  of  dismay, 
and  he  caught  it  from  the  same  telltale  mirror  that  persisted  in 
taking  a  part  in  this  drama. 

"Aha!"  thought  the  young  fellow,  "so  they  have  been  ex- 
changing confidences,  and  my  manner  is  disconcerting  —  not 
what  was  expected.  If  I  have  become  a  jest  between  them  it 
shall  be  a  short-lived  one,  Miss  Hargrove,  with  all  her  city 


BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA.  417 

experience,  shall  find  that  I'm  not  so  young  and  verdant  but 
that  I  can  take  a  hand  in  this  game  also.  As  for  Amy,  I  now 
know  she  never  cared  for  me,  and  I  don't  believe  she  ever 
would  ;  "  and  so  he  went  away  with  laughing  repartee,  and  did 
not  see  the  look  of  deep  disappointment  with  which  he  was 
followed. 

Amy  was  perplexed  and  troubled.  Her  innocent  schemes 
might  not  be  so  easily  accomplished  if  Burt  would  be  wrong- 
headed.  She  was  aware  of  the  dash  of  recklessness  in  his 
character,  and  feared  that  under  the  impulse  of  pride  he  might 
spoil  everything,  or,  at  least,  cause  much  needless  delay. 

With  the  fatality  of  blundering  which  usually  attends  upon 
such  occasions,  he  did  threaten  to  fulfil  her  fears,  and  so  suc- 
cessfully that  Amy  was  in  anxiety,  and  Miss  Hargrove  grew  as 
pale  as  she  was  resolute  not  to  make  the  least  advance,  while 
poor  Webb  felt  that  his  suspense  never  would  end.  Burt  treated 
Amy  in  an  easy,  fraternal  manner.  He  engaged  actively  in  the 
task  of  gathering  and  preparing  for  market  the  large  crop  of 
apples,  and  he  openly  broached  the  subject  of  going  into  a 
business  of  some  kind  away  from  home,  where,  he  declared, 
with  a  special  meaning  for  Amy,  he  was  not  needed,  adding : 
"  It's  time  I  was  earning  my  salt  and  settling  down  to  something 
for  life.  Webb  and  Len  can  take  care  of  all  the  land,  and  I 
don't  believe  I  was  cut  out  for  a  farmer." 

He  not  only  troubled  Amy  exceedingly,  but  he  perplexed  all 
the  family,  for  it  seemed  that  he  was  decidedly  taking  a  new 
departure.  One  evening,  a  day  or  two  after  he  had  introduced 
the  project  of  going  elsewhere,  his  father,  to  Amy's  dismay, 
suggested  that  he  should  go  to  the  far  West  and  look  after  a 
large  tract  of  land  which  the  old  gentleman  had  bought  some 
years  before.  It  was  said  that  a  railroad  was  to  be  built  through 
it,  and,  if  so,  the  value  of  the  propelf^  would  be  greatly  en- 
hanced, and  steps  should  be  taken  to  get  part  of  it  into  the 
market.  Burt  took  hold  of  the  scheme  with  eagerness,  and  was 
for  going  as  soon  as  possible.  Looking  to  note  the  effect  of 


41 8  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

his  words  upon  Amy,  he  saw  that  her  expression  was  not  only 
reproachful,  but  almost  severe.  Leonard  heartily  approved  of 
the  plan.  Webb  was  silent,  and  in  deep  despondency,  feeling 
that  if  Burt  went  now  nothing  would  be  settled.  He  saw  Amy's 
aversion  to  the  project  also,  and  misinterpreted  it. 

She  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  prospects  were  growing 
very  dark.  Burt  might  soon  depart  for  an  indefinite  absence, 
and  Miss  Hargrove  return  to  the  city.  Amy,  who  had  looked 
upon  the  mutations  in  her  own  prospects  so  quietly,  was  almost 
feverishly  eager  to  aid  her  friend.  She  feared  she  had  blun- 
dered on  the  mountain  ride.  Burt's  pride  had  been  wounded, 
and  he  had  received  the  impression  that  his  April-like  moods 
had  been  discussed  satirically.  It  was  certain  that  he  had  been 
very  deeply  interested  in  Gertrude,  and  that  he  was  throwing 
away  not  only  his  happiness,  but  also  hers ;  and  Amy  felt  her- 
self in  some  degree  to  blame.  Therefore  she  was  bent  upon 
ending  the  senseless  misunderstanding,  but  found  insurmount- 
able embarrassments  on  every  side.  Miss  Hargrove  was  prouder 
than  Burt.  Wild  horses  could  not  draw  her  to  the  Cliffords'. 
With  a  pale,  resolute  face,  she  declined  even  to  put  herself  in 
the  way  of  receiving  the  least  advance.  Amy  would  gladly  have 
taken  counsel  of  Webb,  but  could  not  do  so  without  revealing 
her  friend's  secret,  and  also  disclosing  mere  surmises  about 
Burt,  which,  although  amounting  to  conviction  in  her  mind, 
could  not  be  mentioned.  Therefore,  from  the  very  delicacy  of 
the  situation,  she  felt  herself  helpless.  Nature  was  her  ally, 
however,  and  if  all  that  was  passing  in  Burt's  mind  had  been 
manifest,  the  ardent  little  schemer  would  not  have  been  so 
despondent. 

The  best  hope  of  Burt  had  been  that  he  had  checkmated  the 
girls  in  their  disposition  to  make  jesting  comparisons.  He 
would  retire  with  so  much  nonchalance  as  to  leave  nothing  to 
be  said.  They  would  find  complete  inaction  and  silence  hard 
to  combat.  But  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  less  it  seemed 
like  an  honorable  retreat.  He  had  openly  wooed  one  girl,  he 


HURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA. 


419 


had  since  lost  his  heart  to  another,  and  she  had  given  him  a 
glimpse  of  strong  regard,  if  not  more.  His  thoughts  were  busy 
with  her  every  word  and  glance.  How  much  had  his  tones  and 
eyes  revealed  to  her  ?  Might  she  not  think  him  a  heartless  flirt 


IARD    HARVEST. 


if  he  continued  to  avoid  her  and  went  away  without  a  word? 
Would  it  not  be  better  to  be  laughed  at  as  one  who  did  not 
know  his  own  mind  than  be  despised  for  deliberate  trifling? 
Amy  had  asked  him  to  go  and  spend  an  evening  with  her  friend, 
and  he  had  pleaded  weariness  as  an  excuse.  Her  incredulous 


420  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

look  and  rather  cool  manner  since  had  not  been  re-assuring. 
She  had  that  very  morning  broached  the  subject  of  a  chestnut- 
ting  party  for  the  following  day,  and  he  had  promptly  said  that 
he  was  going  to  the  city  to  make  inquiries  about  routes  to  the 
West. 

"Why,  Burt,  you  can  put  off  your  trip  to  town  for  a  day," 
said  his  mother.  "  If  you  are  to  leave  us  so  soon  you  should 
make  the  most  of  the  days  that  are  left." 

"  That  is  just  what  he  is  doing,"  Amy  remarked,  satirically. 
"  He  has  become  absorbed  in  large  business  considerations. 
Those  of  us  who  have  not  such  resources  are  of  no  conse- 
quence." 

The  old  people  and  Leonard  believed  that  Amy  was  not 
pleased  with  the  idea  of  Burt's  going  away,  but  they  felt  that 
she  was  a  little  unreasonable,  since  the  young  fellow  was  rather 
to  be  commended  for  wishing  to  take  life  more  seriously.  But 
her  words  rankled  in  Burt's  mind.  He  felt  that  she  understood 
him  better  than  the  others,  and  that  he  was  not  winning  respect 
from  her.  In  the  afternoon  he  saw  her,  with  Alf  and  Johnnie, 
starting  for  the  chestnut-trees,  and  although  she  passed  not  far 
away  she  gave  him  only  a  slight  greeting,  and  did  not  stop  for 
a  little  merry  banter,  as  usual.  The  young  fellow  was  becoming 
very  unhappy,  and  he  felt  that  his  position  was  growing  intol- 
erable. That  Amy  should  be  cold  towards  him,  or,  indeed, 
towards  any  one,  was  an  unheard-of  thing,  and  he  knew  that 
she  must  feel  that  there  was  good  reason  for  her  manner.  "  And 
is  there  not?"  he  asked  himself,  bitterly.  "  What  are  she  and 
Miss  Hargrove  thinking  about  me  ?  " 

The  more  he  thought  upon  the  past  the  more  awkward 
and  serious  appeared  his  dilemma,  and  his  long  Western  jour- 
ney, which  at  first  he  had  welcomed  as  promising  a  diversion 
of  excitement  and  change,  now  began  to  appear  like  exile.  He 
dreaded  to  think  of  the  memories  he  must  take  with  him ;  still 
more  he  deprecated  the  thoughts  he  would  leave  behind  him. 
His  plight  made  him  so  desperate  that  he  suddenly  left  the 


BURTS  SORE  DILEMM.l.  421 

orchard  where  he  was  gathering  apples,  went  to  the  house,  put 
on  his  riding-suit,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  galloping  furiously 
away  on  his  black  horse.  With  a  renewal  of  hope  Webb 
watched  his  proceedings,  and  with  many  surmises,  Amy,  from 
a  distant  hill-side,  saw  him  passing  at  a  break-neck  pace. 


422  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 


CHAPTER    LIII. 

BURT'S  RESOLVE. 

TX)R  the  first  two  or  three  miles  Burt  rode  as  if  he  were  try- 
X  ing  to  leave  care  behind  him,  scarcely  heeding  what  direc- 
tion he  took.  When  at  last  he  reined  his  reeking  horse  he 
found  himself  near  the  entrance  of  the  lane  over  which  willows 
met  in  a  Gothic  arch.  He  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  visit  the 
spot  which  had  seen  the  beginning  of  so  fateful  an  acquaint- 
ance, and  had  not  gone  far  when  a  turn  in  the  road  revealed 
a  group  whose  presence  almost  made  his  heart  stand  still  for  a 
moment.  Miss  Hargrove  had  stopped  her  horse  on  the  very 
spot  where  he  had  aided  her  in  her  awkward  predicament.  Her 
back  was  towards  him,  and  her  great  dog  was  at  her  side,  look- 
ing up  into  her  face,  as  if  in  mute  sympathy  with  his  fair 
mistress. 

Hope  sprang  up  in  Burt's  heart.  She  could  not  be  there 
with  bowed  head  if  she  despised  him.  Her  presence  seemed 
in  harmony  with  that  glance  by  which,  when  weak  and  unnerved 
after  escaping  from  deadly  peril,  she  had  revealed  possibly  more 
than  gratitude  to  the  one  who  had  rescued  her.  His  love  rose 
like  an  irresistible  tide,  and  he  resolved  that  before  he  left  his 
home  Amy  and  Miss  Hargrove  should  know  the  whole  truth, 
whatever  might  be  the  result.  Meanwhile  he  was  rapidly  ap- 
proaching the  young  girl,  and  the  dog's  short  bark  of  recogni- 
tion was  her  first  intimation  of  Burt's  presence.  Her  impulse 
was  to  fly,  but  in  a  second  she  saw  the  absurdity  of  this  course, 
and  yet  she  was  greatly  embarrassed,  and  would  rather  have 


BURT'S  RESOLVE.  423 

been  discovered  by  him  at  almost  any  other  point  of  the  globe. 
She  was  going  to  the  city  on  the  morrow,  and  as  she  had  drawn 
rein  on  this  spot  and  realized  the  bitterness  of  her  disappoint- 
ment, tears  would  come.  She  wiped  them  hastily  away,  but 
dreaded  lest  their  traces  should  be  seen. 

Turning  her  horse,  she  met  Burt  with  a  smile  that  her  moist 
eyes  belied,  and  said :  "  I'm  glad  you  do  not  find  me  in  such 
an  awkward  plight  as  when  we  first  met  here.  I've  been  giving 
my  horse  a  rest.  Do  you  not  want  a  gallop?"  and  away  like 
the  wind  she  started  homeward. 

Burt  easily  kept  at  her  side,  but  conversation  was  impossible. 
At  last  he  said  :  "  My  horse  is  very  tired,  Miss  Hargrove.  At 
this  pace  you  will  soon  be  home,  and  I  shall  feel  that  you  are 
seeking  to  escape  from  me.  Have  I  fallen  so  very  low  in  your 
estimation?  " 

"  Why,"  she  exclaimed,  in  well-feigned  surprise,  as  she 
checked  her  horse,  "  what  have  you  done  that  you  should  fall 
in  my  estimation?" 

"  I  shall  tell  you  before  very  long,"  he  said,  with  an  expres- 
sion that  seemed  almost  tragic. 

"  Mr.  Clifford,  you  surprise  me.  Your  horse  is  all  of  a  foam 
too.  Surely  this  brief  gallop  cannot  have  so  tried  your  superb 
beast.  What  has  happened  ?  Amy  is  not  ill,  or  any  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  laugh.  "  Every  one  is  well 
and  complacent.  I  had  been  riding  rapidly  before  I  met  you. 
My  horse  has  been  idle  for  some  days,  and  I  had  to  run  the 
spirit  out  of  him.  Amy  wishes  to  have  a  chestnutting  party  to- 
morrow. Won't  you  join  us  ?  " 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Clifford,  but  I  return  to  the  city  to-morrow 
afternoon,  and  was  coming  over  in  the  morning  to  say  good-by 
to  Amy  and  your  father  and  mother." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  too,"  he  said,  in  tones  that  gave  emphasis 
to  his  words. 

She  turned  upon  him  a  swift,  questioning  glance,  but  her  eyes 
instantly  fell  before  his  intense  gaze. 


424  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Oh,  well,"  she  said,  lightly,  "we've  had  a  very  pleasant  sum- 
mer, and  all  things  must  come  to  an  end,  you  know."  Then 
she  went  on  speaking,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  of  the  need  of 
looking  after  Fred,  who  was  alone  in  town,  and  of  getting  the 
city  house  in  order,  and  of  her  plans  for  the  winter,  adding  : 
"  As  there  is  a  great  deal  of  fruit  on  the  place,  papa  does  not 
feel  that  he  can  leave  just  yet.  You  know  he  goes  back  and 
forth  often,  and  so  his  business  does  not  suffer.  But  I  can  just 
as  well  go  down  now,  and  nearly  all  my  friends  have  returned 
to  town." 

"  All  your  friends,  Miss  Hargrove  ?  " 

"  Amy  has  promised  to  visit  me  soon,"  she  said,  hastily. 

"  It  would  seem  that  I  am  not  down  on  your  list  of  friends," 
he  began,  gloomily. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Clifford,  I'm  sure  papa  and  I  would  be  glad  to 
have  you  call  whenever  you  are  in  town." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  disappoint  Mr.  Hargrove,"  he  said,  a 
little  satirically.  "  I'm  going  West  the  last  of  this  month,  and 
may  be  absent  much  of  the  winter.  I  expect  to  look  about  in 
that  section  for  some  opening  in  business." 

"  Indeed,"  she  replied,  in  tones  which  were  meant  to  convey 
but  little  interest,  yet  which  had  a  slight  tremor  in  spite  of  her 
efforts.  "  It  will  be  a  very  great  change  for  you." 

"Perhaps  you  think  that  constitutes  its  chief  charm." 

"  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  said,  "  what  chance  have  I  had  to  think 
about  it  at  all?  You  have  never  mentioned  the  matter."  (Amy 
had,  however,  and  Gertrude  had  not  only  thought  about  it,  but 
dreamed  of  it,  as  if  she  had  been  informed  that  on  a  certain 
date  the  world  would  end.)  "  Is  it  not  a  rather  sudden  plan? " 
she  asked,  a  little  hesitatingly. 

"  Yes,  it  is.  My  father  has  a  large  tract  of  land  in  the  West, 
and  it's  time  it  was  looked  after.  Isn't  it  natural  that  I  should 
think  of  doing  something  in  life  ?  I  fear  there  is  an  impression 
in  your  mind  that  I  entertain  few  thoughts  beyond  having  a 
good  time." 


BURTS  RESOLVE.  42$ 

"To  have  a  good  time  in  life,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him,  "is 
a  very  serious  matter,  worthy  of  any  one's  attention.  It  would 
seem  that  few  accomplish  it." 

•    "  And  I  greatly  fear  that  I  shall  share  in  the  ill-success  of 
the  majority." 

"  You  are  much  mistaken.  A  man  has  no  end  of  resources. 
You  will  soon  be  enjoying  the  excitement  of  travel  and  enter- 
prise in  the  West." 

"  And  you  the  excitement  of  society  and  conquest  in  the  city. 
Conquests,  however,  must  be  almost  wearisome  to  you,  Miss 
Hargrove,  you  make  them  so  easily." 

"  You  overrate  my  power.  I  certainly  should  soon  weary  of 
conquests  were  I  making  them.  Women  are  different  from  men 
in  this  respect.  Where  in  history  do  we  read  of  a  man  who 
was  satiated  with  conquest?  Well,  here  we  are  at  home.  Won't 
you  come  in?  Papa  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Are  you  going  to  the  city  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes." 

"  May  I  call  on  you  this  evening?  " 

"  Certainly.     Bring  Amy  with  you,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  come  alone  ?  " 

"  I'll  try  to.     I  suppose  Amy  will  be  tired  from  nutting." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  lifted  his  hat  gravely,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  galloped  away  as  if  he  were  an  aid  bearing  a  message 
that  might  avert  a  battle. 

Miss  Hargrove  hastened  to  her  room,  and  took  off  her  hat 
with  trembling  hands.  Burt's  pale,  resolute  face  told  her  that 
the  crisis  in  her  life  had  come.  And  yet  she  did  not  fully  un- 
derstand him.  If  he  meant  to  speak,  why  had  he  not  done  so  ? 
why  had  he  not  asked  permission  to  consult  her  father  ? 

Mr.  Hargrove,  from  his  library  window,  saw  Burt's  formal 
parting,  and  concluded  that  his  fears  or  hopes  —  he  scarcely 
knew  which  were  uppermost,  so  deep  was  his  love  for  his 
daughter,  and  so  painful  would  it  be  to  see  her  unhappy  — 
were  not  to  be  fulfilled.  By  a  great  effort  Gertrude  appeared 


426  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

not  very  distraite  at  dinner,  nor  did  she  mention  Burt,  except 
in  a  casual  manner,  in  reply  to  a  question  from  her  mother,  but 
her  father  thought  he  detected  a  strong  and  suppressed  excite- 
ment. 

She  excused  herself  early  from  the  table,  and  said  she  must 
finish  packing  for  her  departure. 


A   GENTLE  EXORCIST.  427 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

A   GENTLE   EXORCIST. 

BURT'S  black  horse  was  again  white  before  he  approached 
his  home.  In  the  distance  he  saw  Amy  returning,  the 
children  running  on  before,  Alf  whooping  like  a  small  Indian  to 
some  playmate  who  was  answering  farther  away.  The  gor- 
geous sunset  lighted  up  the  still  more  brilliant  foliage,  and  made 
the  scene  a  fairy-land.  But  Burt  had  then  no  more  eye  for 
nature  than  a  man  would  have  who  had  staked  his  all  on  the 
next  throw  of  the  dice.  Amy  was  alone,  and  now  was  his 
chance  to  intercept  her  before  she  reached  the  house.  Ima- 
gine her  surprise  as  she  saw  him  make  his  horse  leap  the  inter- 
vening fences,  and  come  galloping  towards  her. 

"  Burt,"  she  cried,  as  he,  in  a  moment  or  two,  reined  up  near 
her,  "  you  will  break  your  neck  !  " 

"  It  wouldn't  matter  much,"  he  said,  grimly.  "  I  fear  a  worse 
fate  than  that." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  in  alarm.  "What  has 
happened?  " 

He  threw  the  bridle  over  a  stake  in  the  fence,  and  the  horse 
was  glad  to  rest,  with  drooping  head.  Then  he  came  and 
stood  beside  her,  his  face  flushed,  and  his  mouth  twitching  with 
excitement  and  strong  feeling.  For  a  moment  he  could  not 
speak. 

"  Burt,"  she  said,  "  what  is  the  matter?     What  do  you  fear?  " 

"  I  fear  your  scorn,  Amy,"  he  began,  impetuously ;  "  I  fear 
I  shall  lose  your  respect  forever.  But  I  can't  go  on  any  longer 


428  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

detesting  myself  and  feeling  that  you  and  Miss  Hargrove  de- 
spise me.  I  may  seem  to  you  and  her  a  fickle  fool,  a  man  of 
straw,  but  you  shall  both  know  the  truth.  I  sha'n't  go  away  a 
coward.  I  can  at  least  be  honest,  and  then  you  may  think  what 
you  please  of  my  weakness  and  vacillation.  You  cannot  think 
worse  things  than  I  think  myself,  but  you  must  not  imagine  that 
I  am  a  cold-blooded,  deliberate  trifler,  for  that  has  never  been 
true.  I  know  you  don't  care  for  me,  and  never  did." 

"  Indeed,  Burt,  you  are  mistaken.  I  do  care  for  you  im- 
mensely," said  Amy,  eagerly  clasping  his  arm  with  both  her 
hands. 

"  Amy,  Amy,"  said  Burt,  in  a  low,  desperate  tone,  "  think 
how  few  short  months  have  passed  since  I  told  you  I  loved  you, 
and  protested  I  would  wait  till  I  was  gray.  You  have  seen  me 
giving  my  thoughts  to  another,  and  in  your  mind  you  expect  to 
see  me  carried  away  by  a  half-dozen  more.  You  are  mistaken, 
but  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  prove  it." 

"  No,  Burt,  I  understand  you  better  than  you  think.  Ger- 
trude has  inspired  in  you  a  very  different  feeling  from  the. one 
you  had  for  me.  I  think  you  are  loving  now  with  a  man's  love, 
and  won't  get  over  it  very  soon,  if  you  ever  do.  You  have  seen, 
you  must  have  felt,  that  my  love  for  you  was  only  that  of  a  sis- 
ter, and  of  course  you  soon  began  to  feel  towards  me  in  the 
same  way.  I  don't  believe  I  would  have  married  you  had  you 
waited  an  age.  Don't  fret,  I'm  not  going  to  break  my  heart 
about  you." 

"  I  should  think  not,  nor  will  any  one  else.  Oh,  Amy,  I  so 
despised  myself  that  I  have  been  half-desperate." 

"  Despised  yourself  because  you  love  a  girl  like  Gertrude 
Hargrove  !  I  never  knew  a  man  to  do  a  more  natural  and  sen- 
sible thing,  whether  she  gave  you  encouragement  or  not.  If  I 
were  a  man  I  would  make  love  to  her,  rest  assured,  and  she 
would  have  to  refuse  me  more  than  once  to  be  rid  of  me." 

Burt  took  a  long  breath  of  immense  relief.  "You  are 
heavenly  kind,"  he  said.  "Are  you  sure  you  won't  despise 


A   GENTLE  EXORCIST.  429 

me  ?  I  could  not  bear  that.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  done 
such  an  awfully  mean  thing  in  making  love  to  you  in  my  own 
home,  and  then  in  changing." 

Her  laugh  rang  out  merrily.  "  Fate  has  been  too  strong  for 
you,  and  I  think  —  I  mean  —  I  hope,  it  has  been  kind.  Bless 
you,  Burt,  I  could  never  get  up  any  such  feeling  as  sways  you. 
I  should  always  be  disappointing,  and  you  would  have  found 
out,  sooner  or  later,  that  your  best  chance  would  be  to  discover 
some  one  more  responsive.  Since  you  have  been  so  frank,  I'll 
be  so  too.  I  was  scarcely  more  ready  for  your  words  last 
spring  than  Johnnie,  but  I  was  simple  enough  to  think  that  in 
half  a  dozen  years  or  so  we  might  be  married  if  all  thought  it 
was  best,  and  my  pride  was  a  little  hurt  when  I  saw  what  — 
what  —  well,  Gertrude's  influence  over  you.  But  I've  grown 
much  older  the  last  few  months,  and  know  now  that  my 
thoughts  were  those  of  a  child.  My  feeling  for  you  is  simply 
that  of  a  sister,  and  I  don't  believe  it  would  ever  have  changed. 
Who  knows?  I  might  eventually  have  an  acute  attack  also, 
and  then  I  should  be  in  a  worse  predicament  than  yours." 

"  But  you  will  be  my  loving  sister  as  long  as  you  live,  Amy  ? 
You  will  believe  that  I  have  a  little  manhood  if  given  a  chance 
to  show  it?" 

"  I  believe  it  now,  Burt,  and  I  can  make  you  a  hundred  fold 
better  sister  than  wife.  The  idea  !  It  seems  but  the  other  day 
I  was  playing  with  dolls.  Here,  now,  cheer  up.  You  have 
judged  yourself  too  harshly ; "  and  she  looked  at  him  so 
smilingly  and  affectionately  that  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  again  and  again,  exclaiming,  "  You  can  count  on  one 
brother  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood.  Oh,  Amy,  whatever  hap- 
pens now,  I  won't  lose  courage.  Miss  Hargrove  will  have  to 
say  no  a  dozen  times  before  she  is  through  with  me." 

At  this  moment  Webb,  from  the  top  of  a  tall  ladder  in  the 
orchard,  happened  to  glance  that  way,  and  saw  the  embrace. 
He  instantly  descended,  threw  down  his  basket  of  apples,  and 
with  it  all  hope.  Burt  had  won  Amy  at  last.  The  coolness 


430  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

between  them  had  been  but  a  misunderstanding,  which  appar- 
ently had  been  banished  most  decidedly.  He  mechanically 
took  down  his  ladder  and  placed  it  on  the  ground,  then  went  to 
his  room  to  prepare  for  supper. 

"Burt,"  cried  Amy,  when  they  were  half-way  home,  "you 
have  forgotten  your  horse." 

"  If  he  were  Pegasus,  I  should  have  forgotten  him  to-day. 
Won't  you  wait  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  do  anything  for  you." 

"Will  you?"  he  said,  eagerly.  "Will  you  tell  me  if  you 
think  Miss  Hargrove  —  " 

"No,  I  won't  tell  you  anything.  The  idea  !  After  she  has 
refused  you  half  a  dozen  times,  I  may,  out  of  pity,  intercede  a 
little.  Go  get  your  horse,  smooth  your  brow,  and  be  sensible, 
or  you'll  have  Webb  and  Leonard  poking  fun  at  you.  Suppose 
they  have  seen  you  galloping  over  fences  and  ditches  like  one 
possessed." 

"  Well,  I  was  possessed,  and  never  was  there  such  a  kind, 
gentle  exorcist.  .  I  have  seen  Miss  Hargrove  to-day ;  I  had  just 
parted  from  her." 

"  Did  you  say  anything?  " 

"  No,  Amy.  How  could  I,  until  I  had  told  you  ?  I  felt  I 
was  bound  to  you  by  all  that  can  bind  a  man." 

"  Oh,  Burt,  suppose  I  had  not  released  you,  but  played  Shy- 
lock,  what  would  you  have  done?"  and  her  laugh  rang  out 
again  in  intense  merriment. 

"I  have  no  fears  of  that,"  he  replied,  ruefully.  "You  are 
the  last  one  to  practise  Mrs.  MacStinger's  tactics.  My  fear  was 
that  you  and  Miss  Hargrove  both  would  send  me  West  as  a 
precious  good  riddance." 

"  Well,  it  was  square  of  you,  as  Alf  says,  to  come  to  me  first, 
and  I  appreciate  it,  but  I  should  not  have  resented  the  omis- 
sion. Will  you  forgive  my  curiosity  if  I  ask  what  is  the  next 
move  in  the  campaign?  I've  been  reading  about  the  war,  you 
know,  and  I  am  quite  military  in  my  ideas." 


A   GENTLE  EXORCIST.  431 

"  I  have  Miss  Hargrove's  permission  to  call  to-night.  It 
wasn't  given  very  cordially,  and  she  asked  me  to  bring  you." 

"  No,  I  thank  you." 

"  Oh,  I  told  her  she  would  have  to  forgive  me  if  I  came 
alone.  I  meant  to  have  it  out  to-day,  if  old  Chaos  came 
again."  When  Amy's  renewed  laughter  so  subsided  that  he 
could  speak,  he  resumed  :  "  I'm  going  over  there  after  supper, 
to  ask  her  father  for  permission  to  pay  my  addresses,  and  if  he 
won't  give  it,  I  shall  tell  him  I  will  pay  them  all  the  same  — 
that  I  shall  use  every  effort  in  my  power  to  win  his  daughter. 
I  don't  want  a  dollar  of  his  money,  but  I'm  bound  to  have  the 
girl  if  she'll  ever  listen  to  me  after  knowing  all  you  know." 

Amy's  laugh  ceased,  and  she  again  clasped  her  hands  on  his 
arm.  "  Dear  Burt,"  she  said,  "  your  course  now  seems  to  me 
manly  and  straightforward.  I  saw  the  strait  you  were  in,  but 
did  not  think  you  felt  it  so  keenly.  In  going  West  I  feared 
you  were  about  to  run  away  from  it.  However  Gertrude  may 
treat  you,  you  have  won  my  respect  by  your  downright  truth. 
She  may  do  as  she  pleases,  but  she  can't  despise  you  now. 
There  goes  your  horse  to  the  stable.  He  has  learned  this 
afternoon  that  you  are  in  no  state  of  mind  to  take  care  of 
him." 


432  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   LV. 

BURT  TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN. 

WEBB  appeared  at  the  supper-table  the  personification  of 
quiet  geniality,  but  Amy  thought  she  had  never  seen 
him  look  so  hollow-eyed.  The  long  strain  was  beginning  to 
tell  on  him,  decidedly,  and  to-night  he  felt  as  if  he  had  received 
a  mortal  blow.  But  with  indomitable  courage  he  hid  his  wound, 
and  seemed  absorbed  in  a  conversation  with  Leonard  and  his 
father  about  the  different  varieties  of  apples,  and  their  relative 
value.  Amy  saw  that  his  mother  was  looking  at  him  anxiously, 
and  she  did  not  wonder.  He  was  growing  thin  even  to  gaunt- 
ness. 

Burt  also  was  an  arrant  dissembler,  and  on  rising  from  the 
table  remarked  casually  that  he  was  going  over  to  bid  Miss 
Hargrove  good- by,  as  she  would  return  to  town  on  the  morrow. 

"She'll  surely  come  and  see  us  before  she  goes,"  Mrs. 
Clifford  remarked.  "  It  seems  to  me  she  hasn't  been  very 
sociable  of  late." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Amy.  "  She'll  be  over  in  the  morning. 
She  told  me  she  was  coming  to  say  good-by  to  us  all,  and  she 
has  asked  me  to  visit  her.  Come,  Webb,  you  look  all  tired 
out  to-night.  Let  me  read  to  you.  I'll  stumble  through  the 
dryest  scientific  treatise  you  have  if  I  can  see  you  resting  on 
the  sofa." 

"  That's  ever  so  kind  of  you,  Amy,  and  I  appreciate  it  more 
than  you  imagine,  but  I'm  going  out  this  evening." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  sisters  are  of  no  account.  What  girl  are 
you  going  to  see?  " 


BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  433 

"  No  girl  whatever.  I  am  too  old  and  dull  to  entertain  the 
pretty  creatures." 

"  Don't  be  fishing.  You  know  one  you  could  entertain  if 
she  Isn't  a  pretty  creature,  but  then  she's  only  a  sister  who 
doesn't  know  much." 

"I'm  sorry  —  I  must  go,"  he  said,  a  little  abruptly,  for  her 
lovely,  half-laughing,  half-reproachful  face,  turned  to  his,  con- 
tained such  mocking  promise  of  happiness  that  he  could  not 
look  upon  it.  What  was  his  urgent  business  ?  His  rapid  steps 
as  he  walked  mile  after  mile  indicated  that  the  matter  was 
pressing  indeed ;  but,  although  it  was  late  before  he  returned, 
he  had  spoken  to  no  one.  The  house  was  dark  and  silent 
except  that  a  light  was  burning  in  Burt  s  room.  And  his 
momentous  fortunes  the  reader  must  now  follow. 

Miss  Hargrove,  with  a  fluttering  heart,  heard  the  rapid  feet 
of  his  horse  as  he  rode  up  the  avenue.  Truly,  he  was  coming 
at  a  lover's  pace.  The  door-bell  rang,  she  heard  him  admitted, 
and  expected  the  maid's  tap  at  her  door  to  follow.  Why  did 
it  not  come  ?  Were  the  tumultuous  throbs  of  her  heart  so  loud 
that  she  could  not  hear  it  ?  What  had  become  of  him  ?  She 
waited  and  listened  in  vain.  She  opened  her  door  slightly; 
there  was  no  sound.  She  went  to  her  window.  There  below, 
like  a  shadow,  stood  a  saddled  horse.  Where  was  the  knight  ? 
Had  the  stupid  girl  shown  him  into  the  drawing-room  and  left 
him  there?  Surely  the  well-trained  servant  had  never  been 
guilty  of  such  a  blunder  before.  Could  it  have  been  some  one 
else  who  had  come  to  see  her  father  on  business  ?  She  stole 
down  the  stairway  in  a  tremor  of  apprehension,  and  strolled 
into  the  parlor  in  the  most  nonchalant  manner  imaginable.  It 
was  lighted,  but  empty,  and  her  expression  suddenly  became 
one  of  troubled  perplexity.  She  returned  to  the  hall,  and 
started  as  if  she  had  seen  an  apparition.  There  on  the  rack 
hung  Burt's  hat,  as  natural  as  life.  Voices  reached  her  ear 
from  her  father's  study.  She  took  a  few  swift  steps  towards  it, 
then  fled  to  her  room,  and  stood  panting  before  her  mirror, 


434  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

which  reflected  a  young  lady  in  a  costume  charmingly  ill 
adapted  to  "  packing." 

How  swiftly  the  minutes  passed  !  how  eternally  long  they 
were  !  Would  she  be  sent  for?  When  would  she  be  sent  for? 
"  It  was  honorable  in  him  to  speak  to  papa  first,  and  papa 
would  not,  could  not,  answer  him  without  consulting  me.  I 
cannot  be  treated  as  a  child  any  longer,"  she  muttered,  with 
flashing  eyes.  "  Papa  loves  me,"  she  murmured,  in  swift  alter- 
nation of  gentle  feeling.  "  He  could  not  make  my  happiness 
secondary  to  a  paltry  sum  of  money." 

Meanwhile  Burt  was  pleading  his  cause.  Mr.  Hargrove  had 
greeted  him  with  no  little  surprise.  The  parting  of  the  young 
people  had  not  promised  any  such  interview. 

"Have  you  spoken  to  my  daughter  on  this  subject?"  Mr. 
Hargrove  asked,  gravely,  after  the  young  fellow  had  rather 
incoherently  made  known  his  errand. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Burt,  "  I  have  not  secured  your  permission. 
At  the  same  time,"  he  added,  with  an  ominous  flash  in  his  blue 
eyes,  "  sincerity  compels  me  to  say  that  I  could  not  take  a  final 
refusal  from  any  lips  except  those  of  your  daughter,  and  not 
readily  from  hers.  I  would  not  give  up  effort  to  win  her  until 
convinced  that  any  amount  of  patient  endeavor  was  useless. 
I  should  not  persecute  her,  but  I  would  ask  her  to  reconsider 
an  adverse  answer  as  often  as  she  would  permit,  and  I  will  try 
with  all  my  soul  to  render  myself  more  worthy  of  her." 

"  In  other  words,"  began  Mr.  Hargrove,  severely,  "  if  1 
should  decline  this  honor,  I  should  count  for  nothing." 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not  mean  that,  and  I  hope  I  haven't  said  Lt, 
even  by  implication.  Your  consent  that  1  should  have  a  fair 
field  in  which  to  do  my  best  would  receive  from  me  boundless 
gratitude.  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that  I  could  not  give  her 
up  ;  I  should  not  think  it  right  to  do  so.  This  question  is  vital 
to  me,  and  I  know  of  no  reason,"  he  added,  a  little  haughtily, 
"  why  I  should  be  refused  a  privilege  which  is  considered  the 
right  of  every  gentleman." 


BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  435 

"  I  have  not  in  the  slightest  degree  raised  the  question  of 
your  being  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Clifford.  Your  course  in  coming 
to  me  before  revealing  your  regard  to  my  daughter  proves  that 
you  are  one.  But  you  should  realize  that  you  are  asking  a 
great  deal  of  me.  My  child's  happiness  is  my  first  and  only 
consideration.  You  know  the  condition  of  life  to  which  my 
daughter  has  been  accustomed.  It  is  right  and  natural  that  I 
should  also  know  something  of  your  prospects,  your  ability  to 
meet  the  obligations  into  which  you  wish  to  enter." 

Poor  Burt  flushed  painfully,  and  hesitated.  After  a  moment 
he  answered,  with  a  dignity  and  an  evident  sincerity  which  won 
golden  opinions  from  Mr.  Hargrove  :  "  I  shall  not  try  to  mis- 
lead you  in  the  least  on  this  point.  For  my  own  sake  I  wish 
that  your  daughter  were  far  poorer  than  I  am.  I  can  say  little 
more  than  that  I  could  give  her  a  home  now  and  every  comfort 
of  life.  I  could  not  now  provide  for  her  the  luxury  to  which 
she  has  been  accustomed.  But  I  am  willing  to  wait  and  eager 
to  work.  In  youth  and  health  and  a  fair  degree  of  education 
I  have  some  capital  in  addition  to  the  start  in  life  which  my 
father  has  promised  to  his  sons.  What  could  not  Miss  Hargrove 
inspire  a  man  to  do?  " 

The  man  of  experience  smiled  in  spite  of  himself  at  Burl's 
frank  enthusiasm  and  naivete.  The  whole  affair  was  so  different 
from  anything  that  he  had  ever  looked  forward  to  !  Instead 
of  a  few  formalities  between  himself  and  a  wealthy  suitor  whom 
his  wife,  and  therefore  all  the  world,  would  approve  of,  here  he 
was  listening  to  a  farmer's  son,  with  the  consciousness  that 
he  must  yield,  and  not  wholly  unwilling  to  do  so.  Moreover, 
this  preposterous  young  man,  so  far  from  showing  any  awe  of 
him,  had  almost  defied  him  from  the  start,  and  had  plainly 
stated  that  the  father's  wealth  was  the  only  objection  to  the 
daughter.  Having  seen  the  drift  of  events,  Mr.  Hargrove  had 
long  since  informed  himself  thoroughly  about  the  Clifford 
family,  and  had  been  made  to  feel  that  the  one  fact  of  his 
wealth,  which  Burt  regretted,  was  almost  his  only  claim  to 


436  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

superiority.  Burt  was  as  transparent  as  a  mountain  brook,  and 
quite  as  impetuous.  The  gray-haired  man  sighed,  and  felt  that 
he  would  give  all  his  wealth  in  exchange  for  such  youth.  He 
knew  his  daughter's  heart,  and  felt  that  further  parleying  was 
vain,  although  he  foresaw  no  easy  task  in  reconciling  his  wife 
to  the  match.  He  was  far  from  being  heartbroken  himself, 
however,  for  there  was  such  a  touch  of  nature  in  Burt,  and  in 
the  full,  strong  love  waiting  to  reward  the  youth,  that  his  own 
heart  was  stirred,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  knew  that 
this  was  better  than  giving  his  child  to  a  jaded  millionaire.  "  I 
have  money  enough  for  both,"  he  thought.  "  As  she  said,  she 
is  rich  enough  to  follow  her  heart.  It's  a  pity  if  we  can't  afford 
an  old-fashioned  love-match." 

Burt  was  respectfully  impatient  under  Mr.  Hargrove's  deep 
thought  and  silence. 

At  last  the  father  arose  and  gave  him  his  hand,  saying : 
"  You  have  been  honest  with  me,  and  that,  with  an  old  mer- 
chant, counts  for  a  great  deal.  I  also  perceive  you  love  my 
daughter  for  herself.  If  she  should  ever  inform  me  that  you 
are  essential  to  her  happiness  I  shall  not  withhold  my  consent." 

Burt  seized  his  hand  with  a  grasp  that  made  it  ache,  as  he 
said,  "  Every  power  I  have,  sir,  shall  be  exerted  that  you  may 
never  regret  this  kindness." 

"  If  you  make  good  that  promise,  Mr.  Clifford,  I  shall  become 
your  friend  should  your  wooing  prove  successful.  If  you  will 
come  to  the  parlor  I  will  tell  Miss  Hargrove  that  you  are  here." 

He  went  up  the  stairs  slowly,  feeling  that  he  was  crossing  the 
threshold  of  a  great  change.  How  many  ,  thoughts  passed 
through  his  mind  as  he  took  those  few  steps  !  He  saw  his 
child  a  little  black-eyed  baby  in  his  arms ;  she  was  running 
before  him  trundling  her  hoop  ;  she  came  to  him  with  con- 
tracted brow  and  half-tearful  eyes,  bringing  a  knotty  sum  in 
fractions,  and  insisting  petulantly  that  they  were  very  "  vulgar  " 
indeed ;  she  hung  on  his  arm,  a  shy  girl  of  fifteen,  blushingly 
conscious  of  the  admiring  eyes  that  followed  her;  she  stood 


BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  437 

before  him  again  in  her  first  radiant  beauty  as  a  debutante,  and 
he  had  dreamed  of  the  proudest  alliance  that  the  city  could 
offer ;  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  a  pale,  earnest  woman,  and  said, 
"  Papa,  he  saved  my  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own."  True,  true, 
Mr.  Clifford  had  not  spoken  of  that,  and  Mr.  Hargrove  had  not 
thought  of  it  in  the  interview  so  crowded  with  considerations. 
His  heart  relented  towards  the  youth  as  it  had  not  done  before. 
Well,  well,  since  it  was  inevitable,  he  was  glad  to  be  the  one 
who  should  first  bring  the  tidings  of  this  bold  wooer's  purpose. 
"  Trurie  will  never  forget  this  moment,"  he  muttered,  as  he 
knocked  at  her  door,  "  nor  my  part  in  her  little  drama."  O 
love,  how  it  craves  even  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  table  of 
its  idol ! 

"  Trurie,"  he  began,  as  he  entered,  "  you  had  better  dress. 
Bless  me,  I  thought  you  were  packing  !  " 

"I  —  I  was." 

"  You  were  expecting  some  one  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Clifford  said  he  would  call  —  to  bid  me  good-by,  I 
suppose." 

"  Was  that  all  you  supposed,  Trurie  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  papa,  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  town  to-morrow, 
and  he  asked  if  he  might  call." 

"  Did  he  speak  of  his  object  ?  " 

"  No,  papa.  I'm  sure  it's  quite  natural  he  should  call,  and 
I  have  been  packing." 

"  Well,  I  can  assure  you  that  he  has  a  very  definite  object. 
He  has  asked  me  if  he  might  pay  his  addresses  to  you,  and  in 
the  same  breath  assured  me  that  he  would  in  any  event." 

"  Oh,  papa,"  she  said,  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  "  he 
was  not  so  unmannerly  as  that !  " 

"  Indeed,  he  went  much  further,  declaring  that  he  would  take 
no  refusal  from  you,  either ;  or,  rather,  that  he  would  take  it  so 
often  as  to  wear  out  your  patience,  and  secure  you  by  proving 
that  resistance  was  useless.  He  had  one  decided  fault  to  find 
with  you,  also.  He  much  regrets  that  you  have  wealth." 


438  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"  Oh,  papa,  tell  me  what  he  did  say;  "  and  he  felt  her  heart 
fluttering  against  his  side  like  that  of  a  frightened  bird. 

"Why,  Trurie,  men  have  offered  you  love  before." 

"But  I  never  loved  before,  nor  knew  what  it  meant,"  she 
whispered.  "  Please  don't  keep  me  in  suspense.  This  is  all 
so  strange,  so  sacred  to  me." 

"  Well,  Trurie,  I  hope  your  match  may  be  one  of  those  that 
are  made  in  heaven.  Your  mother  will  think  it  anything  but 
worldly  wise.  However,  I  will  reconcile  her  to  it,  and  I'm  glad 
to  be  the  one  with  whom  you  will  associate  this  day.  Long 
after  I  am  gone  it  may  remind  you  how  dear  your  happiness  was 
to  me,  and  that  I  was  willing  to  give  up  my  way  for  yours.  Mr. 
Clifford  has  been  straightforward  and  manly,  if  not  conven- 
tional, and  I've  told  him  that  if  he  could  win  you  and  would 
keep  his  promise  to  do  his  best  for  you  and  by  you,  I  would  be 
his  friend,  and  tha.t,  you  know,  means  much.  Of  course,  it  all 
depends  upon  whether  you  accept  him.  You  are  not  com- 
mitted in  the  least." 

"Am  I  not,  papa?  Here  is  an  organ"  —  with  her  hand 
upon  her  heart  —  "  that  knows  better.  But  I  shall  not  throw 
myself  at  him.  Must  I  go  down  now?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  can  excuse  you,"  he  said,  with  smiling  lips  but 
moist  eyes. 

"  Dear  papa,  I  will,  indeed,  associate  you  with  this  hour  and 
every  pleasant  thing  in  life.  You  will  find  that  you  have  won 
me  anew  instead  of  losing  me  ;  "  and  looking  back  at  him  with 
her  old  filial  love  shining  in  her  eyes,  she  went  slowly  away  to 
meet  the  future  under  the  sweet  constraint  of  Nature's  highest 
law. 

If  Burt  had  been  impatient  in  the  library,  he  grew  almost 
desperate  in  the  parlor.  Horrible  doubts  and  fears  crossed  his 
mind.  Might  not  Miss  Hargrove's  pride  rise  in  arms  against 
him?  Might  she  not  even  now  be  telling  her  father  of  his 
fickleness,  and  declaring  that  she  would  not  listen  to  a  "  twice- 
told  tale  "  ?  Every  moment  of  delay  seemed  ominous,  and 


RURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  439 

many  moments  passed.  The  house  grew  sepulchral  in  its 
silence,  and  the  wind  without  sighed  and  moaned  as  if  Nature 
foreboded  and  pitied  him  in  view  of  the  overwhelming  misfor- 
tune impending.  At  last  he  sprang  up  and  paced  the  room  in 
his  deep  perturbation.  As  he  turned  towards  the  entrance  he 
saw  framed  in  the  doorway  a  picture  that  appeared  like  a 
radiant  vision.  Miss  Hargrove  stood  there,  looking  at  him  so 
intently  that,  for  a  second  or  two,  he  stood  spell-bound.  She 
was  dressed  in  some  white,  clinging  material,  and,  with  her  bril- 
liant eyes,  appeared  in  the  uncertain  light  too  beautiful  and 
wraith-like  to  be  human.  She  saw  her  advantage,  and  took  the 
initiative  instantly.  "  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  exclaimed,  "  do  I  seem 
an  apparition?" 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  he  replied,  coming  impetuously  towards  her. 
She  held  out  her  hand,  proposing  that  their  interview  should  at 
least  begin  at  arm's  length.  Nevertheless,  the  soft  fire  in  his 
eyes  and  the  flush  on  his  handsome  face  made  her  tremble 
with  a  delicious  apprehension.  Even  while  at  a  loss  to  know 
just  how  to  manage  the  preliminaries  for  a  decorous  yielding, 
she  exulted  over  the  flame-like  spirit  of  her  lover. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  cried,  "  you  ought  to  know  that  you 
are  not  crushing  a  ghost's  hand." 

"  Pardon  me.  What  I  meant  was  that  I  thought  I  had 
seen  you  before,  but  you  are  a  new  revelation  every  time  I  see 
you." 

"  I  can't  interpret  visions." 

"  Please  don't  say  that,  for  I  must  ask  you  to  interpret  one 
to-night.  What  does  Shakespeare  say  about  those  who  have 
power?  I  hope  you  will  use  yours  mercifully.  Oh,  Miss  Har- 
grove, you  are  so  beautiful  that  I  believe  I  should  lose  my 
reason  if  you  sent  me  away  without  hope." 

"  Mr.  Clifford,  you  are  talking  wildly,"  was  her  faint  response. 

"  I  fear  I  am.  I  am  almost  desperate  from  fear,  for  I  have 
a  terribly  hard  duty  to  perform." 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  said,  withdrawing  her  hand,  which  he  relin- 


440  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

quished  most  reluctantly,  dreading  that  he  might  never  receive 
it  again. 

"  Do  not  assume  that  attitude,  Miss  Hargrove,  or  I  shall  lose 
courage  utterly." 

"Truly,  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  said,  a  little  satirically,  seating  her- 
self on  a  sofa,  "  I  never  imagined  you  deficient  in  courage.  Is 
it  a  terrible  duty  to  entertain  me  for  a  half-hour,  and  say  good- 
by?" 

"  Yes.  Nothing  could  be  worse  than  that,  if  that  were  all ;  " 
and  he  looked  at  her  appealingly  and  in  such  perplexed  dis- 
tress that  she  laughed  outright. 

"  I  am  very  much  in  earnest,  Miss  Hargrove." 

"  You  are  very  enigmatical,  Mr.  Clifford.  Must  I  be  present 
while  you  perform  this  terrible  duty?" 

"  I  think  you  know  what  I  must  confess  already,  and  have  a 
world  of  scorn  in  store  for  me.  Do  not  judge  me  harshly. 
Whatever  the  end  may  be,  and  my  sense  of  ill-desert  is  heavy 
indeed,  I  shall  begin  on  the  basis  of  absolute  truth.  You  shall 
know  the  worst.  I've  asked  your  father  for  the  privilege  of  win- 
ning your  love ; "  and  then  he  hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to 
to  go  on. 

"  Is  that  the  worst?"  she  asked,  demurely. 

"  No,  I  fear  it  will  be  the  best,  for  he  kindly  gave  his  con- 
sent, and  I  know  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  do  as  much  for 
any  man,  much  more  so  for  one  not  wholly  to  his  mind.  Miss 
Hargrove,  I  must  appear  awkwardness  and  incoherency  personi- 
fied. I  hardly  know  how  to  go  on.  I  shall  appear  to  you 
fickle  and  unmanly.  How  can  I  excuse  myself  to  you  when  I 
have  no  excuse  except  the  downright  truth  that  I  love  you 
better  than  my  life,  better  than  my  own  soul,  better  than  all  the 
world  and  everything  in  it.  I  never  knew  what  love  was  until 
you  became  unconscious  in  my  arms  on  the  mountain.  Forgive 
me  for  referring  to  it.  I'm  only  trying  to  explain  myself;  and 
yet  I  had  thought  that  1  knew,  and  had  spoken  words  of  love 
to  your  friend,  Amy  Winfield,  who  is  worthy  of  the  love  of  the 


BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  441 

best  and  noblest  man  that  ever  breathed.  She  did  not  wel- 
come my  words  —  they  only  wounded  her  —  and  she  has  never 
cared  for  me  except  as  a  true  and  gentle  sister  cares.  But  I 
promised  to  wait  till  she  did  care.  I  can't  keep  that  promise. 
You  fascinated  me  from  the  first  hour  of  our  meeting.  I  feel 
now  that  I  cherished  an  unworthy  purpose  towards  you.  I 
thought  that,  by  attentions  to  you,  I  could  make  Amy  care ; 
I  thought  that  you  were  but  a  brilliant  society  girl ;  but  every 
hour  I  spent  with  you  increased  my  admiration,  my  respect ;  I 
saw  that  you  were  better  and  stronger  than  I  was.  On  the  first 
day  we  went  into  camp  on  the  mountain  I  saw  whither  my  heart 
was  leading  me,  and  from  that  hour  until  to-day  I  have  tried  to 
conquer  my  love,  feeling  that  I  had  no  right  to  give  it,  that  you 
would  despise  it  if  I  did.  You  can't  have  any  confidence  in 
me  now.  All  my  hope  is  that  you  will  give  me  a  chance  to 
prove  that  I  am  not  a  fickle  wretch.  I  will  accept  of  any  pro- 
bation, I  will  submit  to  any  terms.  I  can't  take  an  absolute 
refusal  now,  for  I  feel  you  are  seeing  me  at  my  worst,  and  I 
know  that  you  could  do  with  me  anything  you  pleased." 

Her  head  bowed  lower  and  lower  as  he  poured  out  these 
words  like  a  torrent.  "  Does  Amy  —  have  you  told  her  that 
you  cannot  keep  your  promise  to  her?"  she  faltered,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  told  her  so  a  few  hours  ago  —  since  I  met  you 
this  afternoon.  I  was  going  away  to  the  West,  like  a  coward, 
to  escape  from  my  dilemma,  for  I  felt  you  would  never  listen 
to  me  after  you  knew  that  I  had  broken  my  word  to  Amy. 
I  feared  that  I  had  already  become  a  by-word  between  you  for 
all  that  was  weak  and  fickle.  But  after  I  saw  you  I  could  not 
go  till  I  spoke.  I  determined  to  reveal  the  whole  truth,  and  if 
you  ever  gave  me  a  chance  to  retrieve  myself,  gratitude  would 
be  no  name  for  my  deep  feeling." 

"  Did  —  did  Amy  release  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was  kindness  itself.  She  told  me  in  good  plain 
English  that  she  wanted  neither  me  nor  my  promise ;  that  she 


442  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

didn't  think  that  she  ever  could  have  loved  me,  no  matter  how 
long  I  might  have  waited.  But  I  could  not  look  into  your  clear 
eyes  and  say,  '  I  love  you,'  and  know  that  you  might  learn  from 
her  or  any  one  chat  I  had  said  this  before.  If  you  won't  trust 
me,  having  had  the  whole  truth,  then  I  must  bear  my  hard  fate 
as  best  I  can." 

"  How  long  would  you  be  willing  to  wait  for  me?  "  she  asked, 
in  tones  so  low  that  he  could  scarcely  catch  the  words. 

He  bounded  to  her  side,  and  took  her  unresisting  hand. 
"  Oh,  Gertrude,"  he  pleaded,  "  prove  me,  give  me  a  chance, 
let  me  show  that  I  am  not  without  manhood  and  constancy. 
Believe  me,  I  know  the  priceless  gift  I'm  asking,  but  what  else 
can  I  do  ?  I  have  tried  for  weeks  to  conquer  the  feeling  you 
have  inspired,  tried  with  all  the  help  that  pride  and  sense  of 
duty  and  honor  could  give,  but  it  has  been  utterly  useless.  I 
now  am  free ;  I  have  the  right  to  speak.  I  have  concealed 
nothing  from  you.  I'm  wholly  at  your  mercy." 

At  last  she  raised  her  downcast  eyes  and  averted  face  to  his, 
and  for  a  moment  he  was  dazed  at  their  expression.  In  tones 
sweet,  low,  and  deep  with  her  strong  emotion,  she  said,  "  Burt, 
how  glad  I  am  that  you  men  are  blind  !  I  found  out  that  I 
loved  you  before  we  went  to  our  mountain  camp."  She  sprang 
up  and  gave  him  her  other  hand  as  she  continued  :  "  Can  love 
impose  such  hard  conditions  as  you  suggest  —  months  of  doubt- 
ful waiting  for  one  who  risked  his  life  for  me  without  a  second's 
hesitation?  That  is  not  my  nature,  Burt.  If  I  have  power 
over  you,  I  shall  show  it  in  another  way." 

She  would  never  forget  his  look  as  he  listened  to  these  words, 
nor  his  humility  as  he  lowered  his  head  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
murmured,  "  I  am  not  worthy  of  this."  It  touched  the  deepest 
and  tenderest  chord  in  her  heart.  His  feeling  was  not  the 
exultation  of  success,  but  a  gratitude  too  deep  for  words,  and  a 
half-conscious  appeal  that  she  would  use  her  woman's  power  to 
evoke  a  better  manhood.  It  was  not  mere  acknowledgment 
of  her  beauty,  or  the  impulse  of  his  passion  ;  it  was  homage  to 


BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN.  443 

the  best  and  noblest  part  of  her  nature,  the  expression  of  his 
absolute  trust.  Never  had  she  received  such  a  tribute,  and  she 
valued  it  more  than  if  Burt  had  laid  untold  wealth  at  her  feet. 

A  great  joy  is  often  as  sobering  as  a  great  sorrow,  and  they 
talked  long  and  earnestly  together.  Gertrude  would  not  be- 
come engaged  until  she  had  told  her  mother,  and  shown  her 
the  respect  that  was  her  due.  "  You  must  not  be  resentful," 
the  young  girl  said,  "if  mamma's  consent  is  not  easily  won. 
She  has  set  her  heart  on  an  establishment  in  town,  I've  set  my 
heart  on  you  ;  so  there  we  differ,  and  you  must  give  me  time 
to  reconcile  her  to  a  different  programme." 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  chimed  eleven,  and  Burt  started  up, 
aghast  at  the  flight  of  time.  Gertrude  stole  to  her  father's 
library,  and  found  that  he  was  pacing  the  floor.  "  I  should  not 
have  left  him  alone  so  long  to-night,"  she  thought,  with  com- 
punction. "  Papa,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  Clifford  is  going.  Will  you 
not  come  and  speak  to  him?" 

He  looked  into  his  daughter's  flushed,  happy  face,  and  needed 
no  further  explanation,  and  with  her  hands  on  his  arm  he  went 
to  the  drawing-room.  Burt  said  but  few  and  very  simple  words, 
and  the  keen  judge  of  men  liked  him  better  than  if  he  had  been 
more  exuberant.  There  was  evidence  of  downright  earnestness 
now  that  seemed  a  revelation  of  a  new  trait. 

"You  spoke  of  going  to  the  West  soon,"  Mr.  Hargrove  re- 
marked, as  they  lingered  in  parting.  "  Have  you  any  objection 
to  telling  me  of  your  purpose?" 

Burt  explained.  Mr.  Hargrove's  face  soon  expressed  unusual 
interest.  "  I  must  talk  with  you  further  about  this,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  land  in  the  same  locality,  and  also  an  interest  in  the 
railroad  to  which  you  refer.  Perhaps  I  can  make  your  journey 
of  mutual  service." 

"  Oh,  papa,"  cried  his  daughter,  "  you  are  my  good  genius  !  " 
for  she  well  understood  what  that  mutual  service  meant. 

After  Burt  had  gone,  Mr.  Hargrove  said,  "Well,  well,  this 
Western-land  business  puts  a  new  aspect  on  the  affair,  and 


444  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

mamma  may  have  little  ground  for  complaint.  It's  my  impres- 
sion that  the  Cliffords  will  realize  a  very  respectable  fortune  out 
of  that  land." 

"  Papa,"  said  the  young  girl,  "  Burt  gave  me  something  better 
than  wealth  to-night  —  better  even  than  love,  in  the  usual  sense 
of  the  word.  He  gave  me  his  faith.  He  acted  as  if  he  saw  in 
me  the  power  to  help  him  to  be  a  true  man,  and  what  higher 
compliment  can  a  woman  receive  ?  He  did  not  express  it  so 
much  by  word  as  by  an  unconscious  manner,  that  was  so  sincere 
and  unpremeditated  that  it  thrilled  my  very  soul.  "  Oh,  papa, 
you  have  helped  me  to  be  so  very  happy  ! " 


WEBB'S  FOUR-LEADED   CLOSER.  445 


CHAPTER   LVI. 
WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER. 

WEBB'S  silent  entrance  had  not  been  so  quiet  but  that 
Burt  heard  him.  Scarcely  had  he  gained  his  room  be- 
fore the  younger  brother  knocked,  and  followed  him  in  without 
waiting.  "Where  have  you  been  at  this  time  of  night?"  he 
exclaimed.  "  You  are  infringing  on  ghostly  hours,  and  are  be- 
ginning to  look  like  a  ghost ;  "  for  Webb  had  thrown  himself 
into  a  chair,  and  was  haggard  from  the  exhaustion  of  his  long 
conflict.  The  light  and  kindly  way  in  which  he  answered  his 
brother  proved  that  he  was  victor. 

"  Webb,"  said  Burt,  putting  his  hand  on  the  elder  brother's 
shoulder,  "  you  saved  my  life  last  winter,  and  life  has  become 
of  immense  value  to  me.  If  you  had  not  found  me,  I  should 
have  missed  a  happiness  that  falls  to  'the  lot  of  few  —  a  happi- 
ness of  which 'all  your  science  can  never  give  you,  you  old 
delver,  even  an  idea.  I  meant  to  tell  mother  and  father  first, 
but  I  feel  to-night  how  much  I  owe  to  your  brave,  patient 
search,  and  I  want  your  congratulations." 

"  I  think  you  might  have  told  father  and  mother  last  night, 
for  I  suppose  it's  morning  now." 

"  I  did  not  get  home  in  time,  and  did  not  wish  to  excite 
mother,  and  spoil  her  rest." 

"  Well,  then,  you  might  have  come  earlier  or  gone  later.  Oh, 
I  know  all  about  it.  I'm  not  blind." 

"  By  Jove  !  I  think  not,  if  you  know  all  about  what  I  didn't 
know,  and  could  scarcely  believe  possible  myself,  till  an  hour 
or  two  since." 


446  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  driving  at?  I  think  you  might  have 
stayed  at  home  with  Amy  to-night,  of  all  times.  An  accident, 
Burt,  revealed  "To  me  your  success,  and  I  do  congratulate  you 
most  sincerely.  You  have  now  the  truest  and  loveliest  girl  in 
the  world." 

"  That's  true,  but  what  possible  accident  could  have  revealed 
the  fact  to  you?" 

"  Don't  think  I  was  spying  upon  you.  From  the  top  of  a 
ladder  in  the  orchard  I  saw,  as  the  result  of  a  casual  glance, 
your  reward  to  Amy  for  words  that  must  have  been  very  satis- 
factory." 

Burt  began  to  laugh  as  if  he  could  not  control  himself. 
"  What  a  surprise  I  have  for  you  all !  "  he  said.  "  I  went 
where  I  did  last  night  with  Amy's  full  knowledge  and  consent. 
She  never  cared  a  rap  for  me,  but  the  only  other  girl  in  the 
world  who  is  her  equal  does,  and  her  name  is  Gertrude  Har- 
grove." 

Webb  gave  a  great  start,  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Don't  be  so  taken  aback,  old  fellow.  I  suppose  you  and 
the  rest  had  set  your  hearts  on  -my  marrying  Amy.  You  have 
only  to  follow  Amy's  example,  and  give  me  your  blessing.  Yes, 
you  saw  me  give  Amy  a  very  grateful  and  affectionate  greeting 
last  evening.  She's  the  dearest  little  sister  that  ever  a  man  had, 
and  that's  all  she  ever  wanted  to  be  to  me.  I  felt  infernally 
mean  when  I  came  to  her  yesterday,  for  I  was  in  an  awkward 
strait.  I  had  promised  to  wait  for  her  till  she  did  care,  but  she 
told  me  that  there  was  no  use  in  waiting,  and  I  don't  believe 
there  would  have  been.  She  would  have  seen  some  one  in  the 
future  who  would  awaken  a  very  different  feeling  from  any  that 
I  could  inspire,  and  then,  if  she  had  promised  herself  to  me, 
she  would  have  been  in  the  same  predicament  that  I  was.  She 
is  the  best  and  most  sensible  little  girl  that  ever  breathed,  and 
feels  towards  me  just  as  she  does  towards  you,  only  she  very 
justly  thinks  you  have  forgotten  more  than  I  ever  knew.  As  for 
Gertrude  —  Hang  it  all !  what's  the  use  of  trying  to  explain  ? 


WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED   CLOVER.  447 

You'll  say  I'm  at  my  old  tricks,  but  I'm  not.  You've  seen  how 
circumstances  have  brought  us  together,  and  I  tell  you  my  eye 
and  heart  are  filled  now  for  all  time.  She  will  be  over  to-mor- 
row, and  I  want  her  to  receive  the  greeting  she  deserves." 

The  affair  seemed  of  such  tremendous  importance  to  Burt 
that  he  was  not  in  the  least  surprised  that  Webb  was  deeply 
moved,  and  fortunately  he  talked  long  enough  to  give  his 
brother  time  to  regain  his  self-control.  Webb  did  congratulate 
him  in  a  way  that  was  entirely  satisfactory,  and  then  bundled 
him  out  of  the  room  in  the  most  summary  manner,  saying, 
"  Because  you  are  a  hare-brained  lover,  you  shouldn't  keep 
sane  people  awake  any  longer."  It  were  hard  to  say,  however, 
who  was  the  less  sane  that  night,  Webb  or  Burt.  The  former 
threw  open  his  window,  and  gazed  at  the  moonlit  mountains  in 
long,  deep  ecstasy.  Unlike  Burt's,  his  more  intense  feeling 
would  find  quiet  expression.  All  he  knew  was  that  there  was  a 
chance  for  him  —  that  he  had  the  right  to  put  forth  the  best 
effort  of  which  he  was  capable  —  and  he  thanked  God  for 
that.  At  the  same  time  he  remembered  Amy's  parable  of  the 
rose.  He  would  woo  as  warily  as  earnestly.  With  Burt's  ex- 
perience beforexhis  eyes,  he  would  never  stun  her  with  sudden 
and  violent  declarations.  His  love,  like  sunshine,  would  seek 
to  develop  the  flower  of  her  love. 

He  was  up  and  out  in  the  October  dawn,  too  happy  and  ex- 
cited for  sleep.  His  weariness  was  gone  ;  his  sinews  seemed 
braced  with  steel  as  he  strode  to  a  lofty  eminence.  No  hue  on 
the  richly  tinted  leaves  nor  on  the  rival  chrysanthemums  was 
brighter  than  his  hope,  and  the  cool,  pure  air,  in  which  there 
was  as  yet  no  frostiness,  was  like  exhilarating  wine.  From  the 
height  he  looked  down  on  his  home,  the  loved  casket  of  the 
more  dearly  prized  jewel.  He  viewed  the  broad  acres  on  which 
he  had  toiled,  remembering  with  a  dull  wonder  that  once  he 
had  been  satisfied  with  their  material  products.  Now  there  was 
a  glamour  upon  them,  and  upon  all  the  landscape.  The  river 
gleamed  and  sparkled ;  the  mountains  flamed  like  the  plumage 


448  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

of  some  tropical  bird.  The  world  was  transfigured.  The  earth 
and  his  old  materiality  became  the  foundation-stones  on  which 
his  awakened  mind,  kindled  and  made  poetic,  should,  rear  an 
airy,  yet  enduring,  structure  of  beauty,  consecrated  to  Amy. 
He  had  loved  nature  before,  but  it  had  been  to  him  like  a  palace 
in  which,  as  a  dull  serving-man,  he  had  employed  himself  in 
caring  for  its  furniture  and  the  frames  of  its  paintings.  But  he 
had  been  touched  by  a  magic  wand,  and  within  the  frames 
glowed  ever-changing  pictures,  and  the  furniture  was  seen  to  be 
the  work  of  divine  art.  The  palace  was  no  longer  empty,  but 
enshrined  a  living  presence,  a  lovely  embodiment  of  Nature's 
purest  and  best  manifestation.  The  development  of  no  flower 
in  all  the  past  summer  was  so  clear  to  him  as  that  of  the  girl  he 
loved.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  known  her  thoughts  from  child- 
hood. Her  young  womanhood  was  like  that  of  the  roses  he 
had  shown  to  her  in  the  dewy  June  dawn  that  seemed  so  long 
ago.  Burt  had  never  touched  her  heart.  It  was  still  like  a  bud 
of  his  favorite  mossrose,  wrapped  in  its  green  calyx.  Oh,  what 
a  wealth  of  fragrant  beauty  would  be  revealed  !  Now  it  might 
be  revealed  to  him.  But  she  should  waken  in  her  own  time ; 
and  if  he  had  not  the  power  to  impart  the  deep,  subtile  impulse, 
then  that  nearest  to  her,  Nature,  should  be  his  bride. 

They  were  all  at  the  breakfast- table  when  he  returned,  and 
this  plotter  against  Amy's  peace  entered  and  greeted  her  with  a 
very  quiet  "  Good-morning,"  but  he  laid  beside  her  plate  a  four- 
leaved  clover  which  he  had  espied  on  his  way  back. 

"Thanks,  Webb,"  she  said,  with  eyes  full  of  merriment ;  "  I 
foresee  an  amazing  amount  of  good  luck  in  this  little  emblem. 
Indeed,  I  feel  sure  that  startling  proofs  of  it  will  occur  to-day  ;  " 
and  she  looked  significantly  at  Burt,  who  laughed  very  con- 
sciously. 

"What  mischief  has  Burt  been  up  to,  Amy?"  Mrs.  Clifford 
asked.  "  He  was  ready  to  explode  with  suppressed  something 
last  evening  at  supper,  and  now  he  is  effervescing  in  somewhat 
different  style,  but  quite  as  remarkably.  You  boys  needn't 


WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER.  449 

think  you  can  hide  anything  from  mother  very  long ;  she  knows 
you  too  well." 

Both  Webb  and  Burt,  with  Amy,  began  to  laugh,  and  they 
looked  at  each  other  as  if  there  were  a  good  deal  that  mother 
did  not  know. 

"Webb  and  Amy  have  evidently  some  joke  on  Burt,"  re- 
marked Leonard.  "Webb  was  out  last  night,  and  I  bet  a 
pippin  he  caught  Burt  flirting  with  Miss  Hargrove." 

"  Oh,  Burt !  "  cried  Amy,  in  mock  indignation. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  his  mother.  "  Burt  is  going  to  settle 
down  now  and  be  steady.  We'll  make  him  sign  a  pledge  be- 
fore he  goes  West,  won't  we,  Amy?  " 

"Yes  indeed,"  gasped  Amy,  almost  beside  herself  with  mer- 
riment ;  "  he'll  have  to  sign  one  in  big  capitals." 

"  Burt,"  said  his  father,  looking  at  him  over  his  spectacles, 
"  you've  been  getting  yourself  into  some  scrape  as  sure  as  the 
world.  That's  right,  Amy ;  you  laugh  at  him  well,  and  —  " 

"  A  truce  !  "  exclaimed  Burt.  "  If  I'm  in  a  scrape,  I  don't 
propose  to  get  out  of  it,  but  rather  to  make  you  all  share  in  it. 
As  Amy  says,  her  four-leaved  clover  will  prove'  a  true  prophet, 
green  as  it  looks.  I  now  beg  off,  and  shall  prove  that  my 
scrape  has  not  spoiled  my  appetite." 

"  Well,"  said  Leonard,  "  I  never  could  find  any  four-leaved 
clovers,  buM've  had  good  luck,  haven't  I,  Maggie?" 

"  You  had  indeed,  when  you  came  courting  me." 

"  How  about  Maggie's  luck?"  asked  Burt. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  began  Webb,  "  that  I  could  develop  acres 
of  four-leaved  clover.  Some  plants  have  this  peculiarity.  I 
have  counted  twenty-odd  on  one  root.  If  seed  from  such  a 
plant  were  sown,  and  then  seed  selected  again  from  the  new 
plants  most  characterized  by  this  '  sport,'  I  believe  the  trait 
would  become  fixed,  and  we  could  have  a  field  of  four-leaved 
clover.  New  varieties  of  fruits,  vegetables,  and  flowers  are 
often  thus  developed  from  chance  '  sports '  or  abnormal  speci- 


450  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

"Just  hear  Webb,"  said  Amy.  "  He  would  turn  this  ancient 
symbol  of  fortune  into  a  marketable  commodity." 

"  Pardon  me  ;  I  was  saying  what  might  be  done,  not  what  I 
proposed  to  do.  I  found  this  emblem  of  good  chance  by 
chance,  and  I  picked  it  with  the  '  wish  '  attached  to  the  stem. 
Thus  to  the  utmost  I  have  honored  the  superstition,  and  you 
have  only  to  make  your  wish  to  carry  it  out  fully." 

"  My  wishes  are  in  vain,  and  all  the  four-leaved  clovers  in  the 
world  wouldn't  help  them.  I  wish  I  was  a  scientific  problem, 
a  crop  that  required  great  skill  to  develop,  a  rare  rose  that  all 
the  rose-ni^niacs  were  after,  a  new  theory  that  required  a  great 
deal  of  consideration  and  investigation,  and  accompanied  with 
experiments  that  needed  much  observation,  and  any  number  of 
other  t-i-o-n-shuns.  Then  I  shouldn't  be  left  alone  evenings 
by  the  gre.at  inquiring  mind  of  the  family.  Burt's  going  away, 
and,  as  his  father  says,  has  got  into  a  scrape  ;  so  what's  to 
become  of  me  ?  " 

They  all  arose  from  the  table  amid  general  laughter,  of  which 
Webb  and  Burt  were  equally  the  objects, -and  on  the  faces  of 
those  not  in  the  secret  there  was  much  perplexed  curiosity. 

"  Good  gracious  ! "  exclaimed  Maggie,  "  if  Webb  should 
concentrate  his  mind  on  you  as  you  suggest,  it  would  end  by 
his  falling  in  love  with  you." 

This  speech  was  received  with  shouts  of  merriment,  and  Amy 
felt  the  color  rushing  into  her  face,  but  she  scouted  the  possi- 
bility. "The  idea  of  Webb's  falling  in  love  with  anyone!" 
she  cried.  "  I  should  as  soon  expect  to  see  old  Storm  King 
toppling  over." 

"  Still  waters  run  —  "  began  Maggie,  but  a  sudden  flash  from 
Webb's  eyes  checked  her. 

"  Deep,  do  they?"  retorted  Amy.  "Some  still  waters  don't 
run  at  all.  Not  for  the  world  would  I  have  Webb  incur  the 
dreadful  risk  that  you  suggest." 

"  I  think  I'm  almost  old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself, 
sister  Amy,  and  I  promise  you  to  try  to  be  as  entertaining  as 


WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED   CLOVER.  451 

such  an  old  fellow  can  be.  As  to  falling  in  love  with  you,  that 
happened  long  ago  —  the  first  evening  you  came,  when  you 
stood  in  the  doorway  blushing  and  frightened  at  the  crowd  of 
your  new  relations." 

"Haven't  I  got  over  being  afraid  of  them  remarkably?  I 
never  was  a  bit  afraid  of  you  even  at  first.  It  took  me  a  long 
time,  however,  to  find  out  how  learned  you  were,  and  what  deep 
subjects  are  required  to  interest  you.  Alas,  I  shall  never  be  a 
deep  subject." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  putting  his  arm  around 
her,  "  you  have  come  like  sunshine  into  the  old  home,  and  we 
old  people  can't  help  wishing  you  may  never  go  out  of  it  while 
we  are  alive." 

"  I'm  not  a  bit  jealous,  Amy,"  said  Maggie. 

"  I  think  it's  time  this  mutual  admiration  society  broke  up," 
the  young  girl  said,  with  tears  trembling  in  her  eyes.  "  When 
I  think  of  it  all,  and  what  a  home  I've  found,  I'm  just  silly 
enough  to  cry.  I  think  it's  time,  Burt,  that  you  obtained  your 
father's  and  mother's  forgiveness  or  blessing,  or  whatever  it  is 
to  be." 

"  You  are  right,  Amy,  as  you  always  are.  Mother,  will  you 
take  my  arm?  and  if  you  will  accompany  us,  sir  (to  his  father), 
you  shall  learn  the  meaning  of  Amy's  four-leaved  clover." 

"You  needn't  think  you  are  going  to  get  Amy  without  my 
consent,"  Leonard  called  after  him.  "  I've  known  her  longer 
than  any  of  you  —  ever  since  she  was  a  little  girl  at  the 
depot." 

Amy  and  Webb  began  laughing  so  heartily  at  the  speaker 
that  he  went  away  remarking  that  he  could  pick  apples  if  he 
couldn't  solve  riddles. 

"  Come  up  to  my  room,  Amy,"  said  Maggie,  excitedly. 

"  No,  no,  Mother  Eve,  I  shall  go  to  my  own  room,  and  dress 
for  company." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  your  secret ! "  cried  Maggie.  "  Burt  said 
something  more  than  good-by  to  Miss  Hargrove  last  evening." 


452  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Amy  would  not  answer,  and  the  sound  of  a  mirthful  snatch 
of  song  died  musically  away  in  the  distance. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Webb,"  Maggie  resumed,  "  what  did  you  mean 
by  that^  ominous  flash  from  your  cavern-like  eyes?" 

"  It  meant  that  Amy  has  probably  been  satisfied  with  one 
lover  in  the  family  and  its  unexpected  result.  I  don't  wish  our 
relations  embarrassed  by  the  feeling  that  she  must  be  on  her 
guard  against  another." 

"  Oh,  I  see,  you  don't  wish  her  to  be  on  her  guard." 

"  Dear  Maggie,  whatever  you  may  see,  appear  blind.  Heaven 
only  knows  what  you  women  don't  see." 

"That's  good  policy,  Webb.  I'll  be  your  ally  now.  I've 
suspected  you  for  some  time,  but  thought  Burt  and  Arny  were 
committed  to  each  other." 

"  Amy  does  not  suspect  anything,  and  she  must  not.  She  is 
not  ready  for  the  knowledge,  and  may  never  be.  All  the  help 
I  ask  is  to  keep  her  unconscious.  I've  been  expecting  you 
would  find  me  out,  for  you  married  ladies  have  had  an  experi- 
ence which  doubles  your  insight,  and  I'm  glad  of  the  chance  to 
caution  you.  Amy  is  happy  in  loving  me  as  a  brother.  She 
shall  never  be  unhappy  in  this  home  if  I  can  prevent  it." 

Maggie  entered  heart  and  soul  into  Webb's  cause,  for  he  was 
a  great  favorite  with  her.  He  was  kind  to  her  children,  and  in 
a  quiet  way  taught  them  almost  as  much  as  they  learned  at 
school.  He  went  to  his  work  with  mind  much  relieved,  for  she 
and  his  mother  were  the  only  ones  that  he  feared  might  surmise 
his  feeling,  and  by  manner  or  remark  reveal  it  to  Amy,  thus  de- 
stroying their  unembarrassed  relations,  and  perhaps  his  chance 
to  win  the  girl's  heart. 


OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS.  453 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

•    OCTOBER   HUES   AND    HARVESTS. 

BURT'S  interview  with  his  parents,  their  mingled  surprise, 
pleasure,  and  disappointment,  and  their  deep  sympathy, 
need  not  be  dwelt  upon.  Mr.  Clifford  was  desirous  of  first  see- 
ing Amy,  and  satisfying  himself  that  she  did  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  feel  herself  slighted  or  treated  in  bad  faith,  but  his  wife, 
with  her  low  laugh,  said  :  "  Rest  assured,  father,  Burt  is  right. 
He  has  won  nothing  more  from  Amy  than  sisterly  love,  though 
I  had"  hoped  that  he  might  in  time.  After  all,  perhaps  it  is 
best.  We  shall  keep  Amy,  and  gain  a  new  daughter  that  we 
have  already  learned  to  admire  and  love." 

Burt's  mind  was  too  full  of  the  one  great  theme  to  remember 
what  Mr.  Hargrove  had  said  about  the  Western  land,  and  when 
at  last  Miss  Hargrove  came  to  say  good-by,  with  a  blushing 
consciousness  quite  unlike  her  usual  self-possession,  he  was  en- 
chanted anew,  and  so  were  all  the  household.  The  old  people's 
reception  seemed  like  a  benediction  ;  Amy  banished  the  faint- 
est trace  of  doubt  by  her  mirthful  ecstasies ;  and  after  their 
mountain  experience  there  was  no  ice  to  break  between 
Gertrude  and  Maggie. 

The  former  was  persuaded  to  defer  her  trip  to  New  York 
until  the  morrow,  and  so  Amy  would  have  her  nutting  expedi- 
tion after  all.  When  Leonard  came  down  to  dinner,  Burt  took 
Gertrude's  hand,  and  said,  "Now,  Len,  this  is  your  only  chance 
to  give  your  consent.  You  can't  have  any  dinner  till  you  do." 

His  swift,  deprecating  look  at  Amy's  laughing  face  re-assured 


454  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

him.  "  Well,"  he  said,  slowly,  as  if  trying  to  comprehend  it 
all,  "  I  do  believe  I'm  growing  old.  My  eyesight  must  be  fail- 
ing sadly.  When  did  all  this  take  place  ?  " 

"  Your  eyesight  is  not  to  blame,  Leonard,"  said  his  wife,  with 
much  superiority.  "  It's  because  you  are  only  a  man." 

"That's  all  I  ever  pretended  to  be."  Then,  with  a  dignity 
that  almost  surprised  Gertrude,  he,  as  eldest  brother,  welcomed 
her  in  simple,  heartfelt  words. 

At  the  dinner-table  Miss  Hargrove  referred  to  the  Western 
land.  Burt  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  exclaimed,  "  I 
declare,  I  forgot  all  about  it !  " 

Miss  Hargrove  laughed  heartily  as  she  said,  "  A  high  tribute 
to  me  ! "  and  then  made  known  her  father's  statement  that  the 
Clifford  tract  in  the  West  adjoined  his  own,  that  it  would  soon 
be  very  valuable,  and  that  he  was  interested  in  the  railroad  ap- 
proaching it.  "  I  left  him,"  she  concluded,  "  pouring  over  his 
maps,  and  he  told  me  to  say  to  you,  sir"  (to  Mr.  Clifford), 
"  that  he  wished  to  see  you  soon." 

"  How  about  the  four-leaved  clover  now?  "  cried  Amy. 

In  the  afternoon  they  started  for  the  chestnut-trees.  Webb 
carried  a  light  ladder,  and  both  he  and  Burt  had  dressed  them- 
selves in  close-fitting  flannel  suits  for  climbing.  The  orchard, 
as  they  passed  through  it,  presented  a  beautiful  autumn  picture. 
Great  heaps  of  yellow  and  red  cheeked  apples  were  upon  the 
ground ;  other  varieties  were  in  barrels,  some  headed  up  and 
ready  for  market,  while  Mr.  Clifford  was  giving  the  final  cooper- 
age to  other  barrels  as  fast  as  they  were  filled. 

"  Father  can  still  head  up  a  barrel  better  than  any  of  us," 
Leonard  remarked  to  Miss.  Hargrove. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I've  had  over 
half  a  century's  experience." 

"  It's  time  I  obtained  some  idea  of  rural  affairs,"  said  Ger- 
trude to  Webb.  "  There  seem  to  be  many  different  kinds  of 
apples  here.  Can  you  easily  tell  them  apart?" 

"  Yes,  as  easily  as  you  know  different  dress  fabrics  at  Arnold's. 


OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS. 


455 


Those  umbrella-shaped  trees  are  Rhode  Island  greenings ;  those 
that  are  rather  long  and  slender  branching  are  yellow  bell-flow- 
ers ;  and  those  with  short  and  stubby  branches  and  twigs  are 
the  old-fashioned  dominies.  Over  there  are  Newtown  pippins. 
Don't  you  see  how  green  the  fruit  is  ?  It  will  not  be  in  perfec- 


1 


./'  j 


THE   CIDER-MILL. 


tion  till  next  March.  Not  only  a  summer,  but  an  autumn  and 
a  winter  are  required  to  perfect  that  superb  apple,  but  then  it 
becomes  one  of  Nature's  triumphs.  Some  of  those  heaps  on 
the  ground  will  furnish  cider  and  vinegar.  Nuts,  cider,  and  a 
wood  fire  arc  among  the  privations  of  a  farmer's  life." 

"  Farming,  as  you  carry  it  on,  appears  to  me  a  fine  art.     How 


456  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

very  full  some  of  the  trees  are  !  and  others  look  as  if  they  had 
been  half  picked  over." 

"  That  is  just  what  has  been  done.  The  largest  and  ripest 
apples  are  taken  off  first,  and  the  rest  of  the  fruit  improves 
wonderfully  in  two  or  three  weeks.  By  this  course  we  greatly 
increase  both  the  quality  and  the  bulk  of  the  crop,," 

"  You  are  very  happy  in  your  calling,  Webb.  How  strange 
it  seems  for  me  to  be  addressing  you  as  Webb  ! '" 

"  It  does  not  seem  so  strange  to  me  ;  nor  does  it  seem  strange 
that  I  am  talking  to  you  in  this  way.  I  soon  recognized  that 
you  were  one  of  those  fortunate  beings  in  whom  city  life  had 
not  quenched  nature." 

They  had  fallen  a  little  behind  the  others,  and  were  out  of 
ear-shot. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  hesitatingly  and  shyly,  "  that  I  had  an 
ally  in  you  all  along.  ' 

He  laughed  and  replied,  "  At  one  time  I  was  very  dubious 
over  my  expedition  to  Fort  Putnam." 

"  I  imagine  that  in  suggesting  that  expedition  you  put  in  two 
words  for  yourself." 

"  Call  it  even,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  you  might  be  as  happy  as  I  am.  I'm  not  blind 
either,  and  I  wonder  that  Amy  is  so  unconscious." 

"  I  hope  she  will  remain  so  until  she  awakens  as  naturally  as 
from  sleep.  She  has  never  had  a  brother,  and  as  such  I  try  to 
act  towards  her.  My  one  thought  is  her  happiness,  and,  per- 
haps, I  can  secure  it  in  no  other  way.  I  feared  long  since  that 
you  had  guessed  my  secret,  and  am  grateful  that  you  have  not 
suggested  it  to  Amy.  Few  would  have  shown  so  much  delicacy 
and  consideration." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  you  are  right,  Webb.  If  Amy  knew  of 
your  feeling,  it  would  influence  her  powerfully.  She  misjudges 
you  now." 

"Yes,  it  was  necessary  that  she  should  misunderstand  me, 
and  think  of  me  as  absorbed  in  things  remote  from  her  life. 


OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS. 


457 


The  knowledge  you  suggest  might  make  her  very  sad,  for  there 
never  was  a  gentler-hearted  girl.  You  have  remarkable  tact. 
Please  use  it  to  prevent  the  constraint  which  might  arise 
between  us," 

Burt  now  joined  them  with  much  pretended  jealousy,  and 
they  soon  reached  the  trees,  which,  under  Jhe  young  men's 
vigorous  blows,  rained  down  the  prickly  burrs,  downy  chestnuts, 


AN   OCTOBER  OUTING. 

and  golden  leaves.  Blue  jays  screamed  indignantly  from  the 
mountain-side,  and  squirrels  barked  their  protest  at  the  inroads 
made  upon  their  winter  stores.  As  the  night  approached  the 
air  grew  chilly,  and  Webb  remarked  that  frost  was  coming  at 
last.  He  hastened  home  before  the  others  to  cover  up  certain 
plants  that  might  be  sheltered  through  the  first  cold  snap.  The 
tenderer  ones  had  long  since  been  taken  up  and  prepared  for 
winter  blooming. 


458  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

To  Amy's  inquiry  where  Johnnie  was,  Maggie  had  replied 
that  she  had  gone  nutting  by  previous  engagement  with  Mr. 
Alvord,  and  as  the  party  returned  in  the  glowing  evening  they 
met  the  oddly  assorted  friends  with  their  baskets  well  filled.  In 
the  eyes  of  the  recluse  there  was  a  gentler  expression,  proving 
that  Johnnie's  and  Nature's  ministry  had  not  been  wholly  in 
vain.  He  glanced  swiftly  from  Burt  to  Miss  Hargrove,  then  at 
Amy,  and  a  faint  suggestion  of  a  smile  hovered  about  his 
mouth.  He  was  about  to  leave  them  abruptly  when  Johnnie 
interposed,  pleading :  "  Mr.  Alvord,  don't  go  home  till  I  pick 
you  some  of  your  favorite  heart's-ease,  as  you  call  my  pansies. 
They  have  grown  to  be  as  large  and  beautiful  as  they  were  last 
spring.  Do  you  know,  in  the  hot  weather  they  were  almost  as 
small  as  johnny- jumpers?  but  I  wouldn't  let  'em  be  called  by 
that  name." 

"  They  will  ever  be  heart's-ease  to  me,  Johnnie  —  doubly  so 
when  you  give  them,"  and  he  followed  her  to  the  garden. 

In  the  evening  a  great  pitcher  of  cider  fresh  from  the  press, 
flanked  by  dishes  of  golden  fall  pippins  and  grapes,,  w^as  placed 
on  the  table.  The  young  people  roasted  chestnuts  on  hickory 
coals,  and  every  one,  even  to  the  invalid,  seemed  to  glow  with 
a  kindred  warmth  and  happiness.  The  city  belle  contrasted 
the  true  home-atmosphere  with  the  grand  air  of  a  city  house, 
and  thanked  God  for  her  choice.  At  an  early  hour  she  said 
good-by  for  a  brief  time  and  departed  with  Burt.  He  was 
greeted  with  stately  courtesy  by  Mrs.  Hargrove  herself,  whom 
her  husband  and  the  prospective  value  of  the  Western  land  had 
reconciled  to  the  momentous  event.  Burt  and  Gertrude  were 
formally  engaged,  and  he  declared  his  intention  of  accompany- 
ing her  to  the  city  to  procure  the  significant  diamond. 

After  the  culminating  scenes  of  Burt's  little  drama,  life  went 
on  very  serenely  and  quietly  at  the  Clifford  home.  Out  of 
school  hours  Alf,  Johnnie,  and  Ned  vied  with  the  squirrels  in 
gathering  their  hoard  of  various  nuts.  The  boughs  in  the 
orchard  grew  lighter  daily.  Frost  came  as  Webb  had  pre 


OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS.  459 

dieted,  and  dahlias,  salvias,  and  other  flowers,  that  had  flamed 
and  glowed  till  almost  the  middle  of  October,  turned  black  in 
one  morning's  sun.  The  butternut-trees  had  lost  their  foliage, 
and  countless  leaves  were  fluttering  down  in  every  breeze  like 
many-hued  gems.  The  richer  bronzed  colors  of  the  oak  were 
predominating  in  the  landscape,  and  only  the  apple,  cherry,  and 
willow  trees  about  the  house  kept  up  the  green  suggestion  of 
summer. 


460  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE   MOONLIGHT   OMEN. 

WEBB  permitted  no  marked  change  in  his  manner.  He 
toiled  steadily  with  Leonard  in  gathering  the  fall  prod- 
uce and  in  preparing  for  winter,  but  Amy  noticed  that  his  old 
pre-occupied  look  was  passing  away.  Daily  he  appeared  to 
grow  more  genial  and  to  have  more  time  and  thought  for  her. 
With  increasing  wonder  she  learned  the  richness  and  fulness  of 
his  mind.  In  the  evenings  he  read  aloud  to  them  all  with  his 
strong,  musical  intonation,  in  which  the  author's  thought  was 
emphasized  so  clearly  that  it  seemed  to  have  double  the  force 
that  it  possessed  when  she  read  the  same  words  herself;  He 
found,  time  for  occasional  rambles  and  horseback  excursions, 
and  was  so  companionable  during  long  rainy  days  that  they 
seemed  to  her  the  brightest  of  the  week.  Maggie  smiled  to 
herself  and  saw  that  Webb's  spell  was  working.  He  was  mak- 
ing himself  so  quietly  and  unobtrusively  essential  to  Amy  that 
she  would  find  half  of  her  life  gone  if  she  were  separated  from 
him. 

Gertrude  returned  for  a  short  time,  and  then  went  to  the  city 
for  the  winter.  Burt's  orbit  was  hard  to  calculate.  He  was 
much  in  New  York,  and  often  with  Mr.  Hargrove,  from  whom 
he  was  receiving  instructions  in  regard  to-  his  Western  expedi- 
tion. That  gentleman's  opinion  of  Burt's  business  capacity 
grew  more  favorable  daily,  for  the  young  fellow  now  proposed 
to  show  that  he  meant  to  take  life  in  earnest.  "If  this  lasts  he 
will  make  a  trusty  young  lieutenant,"  the  merchant  thought, 


THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN.  461 

"  and  I  can  make  his  fortune  while  furthering  mine."  Burt  had 
plenty  of  brains  and  good  executive  ability  to  carry  out  the 
wiser  counsels  of  others,  while  his  easy,  vivacious  manner  won 
him  friends  and  acceptance  everywhere. 

It  was  arranged,  after  his  departure,  that  Amy  should  visit  her 
friend  in  the  city,  and  Webb  looked  forward  to  her  absence 
with  dread  and  self-depreciation,  fearing  that  he  should  suffer 
by  contrast  with  the  brilliant  men  of  society,  and  that  the  quiet 
country  life  would  seem  dull,  indeed,  thereafter. 

Before  Amy  went  on  this  visit  there  came  an  Indian  summer 
morning  in  November,  that  by  its  soft,  dreamy  beauty  wooed 
every  one  out  of  doors.  "  Amy,"  said  Webb,  after  dinner, 
"  suppose  we  drive  over  to  West  Point  and  return  by  moon- 
light." She  was  delighted  with  the  idea,  and  they  were  soon 
slowly  ascending  the  mountain.  He  felt  that  this  was  his 
special  opportunity,  not  to  break  her  trustful  unconsciousness, 
but  to  reveal  his  power  to  interest  her  and  make  impressions 
that  should  be  enduring.  He  exerted  every  faculty  to  please, 
recalling  poetic  and  legendary  allusions  connected  with  the 
trees,  plants,  and  scenes  by  which  they  were  passing. 

"Oh,  Webb,  how  you  idealize  nature!"  she  said.  "You 
make  every  object  suggest  something  fanciful,  beautiful,  or 
entertaining.  How  have  you  learned  to  do  it?  " 

"  As  I  told  you  last  Easter  Sunday  —  how  long  ago  it  seems  ! 
—  if  I  have  any  power  for  such  idealization  it  is  largely  through 
your  influence.  My  knowledge  was  much  like  the  trees  as  they 
then  appeared.  I  was  prepared  for  better  things,  but  the  time 
for  them  had  not  yet  come.  I  had  studied  the  material  world 
in  a  material  sort  of  way,  employing  my  mind  with  facts  that 
were  like  the  bare  branches  and  twigs.  You  awakened  in  me  a 
sense  of  the  beautiful  side  of  nature.  How  can  I  explain  it? 
Who  can  explain  the  rapid  development  of  foliage  and  flowers 
when  all  is  ready?  " 

"  But,  Webb,  you  appeared,  during  the  summer,  to  go  back 
to  your  old  materiality  worse  than  ever.  You  made  me  feel  that 


ff 

462  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

I  had  no  power  to  do  anything  for  you.  You  treated  me  as 
if  I  were  your  very  little  sister  who  would  have  to  go  to  school 
a  few  years  before  I  could  be  your  companion." 

"  Those  were  busy  days,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  Besides," 
he  added,  hesitatingly,  "  Burt  was  at  one  time  inclined  to  be 
jealous.  Of  course,  it  was  very  absurd  in  him,  but  I  suppose 
lovers  are  always  a  little  absurd." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  absurd.  I  saw  whither  Burt  was 
drifting  long  ago  —  at  the  time  of  the  great  flood  which  swept 
away  things  of  more  value  than  my  silly  expectations.  What 
an  unsophisticated  little  goose  I  was  !  I  suppose  Johnnie  ex- 
pects to  be  married  some  day,  and  in  much  the  same  way  I 
looked  forward  to  woman's  fate ;  and  since  you  all  seemed  to 
wish  that  it  should  be  Burt,  I  thought,  '  Why  not  ?  '  Wasn't  it 
lucky  for  Burt,  and,  indeed,  for  all  of  you,  that  I  was  not  a 
grown-up  and  sentimental  young  woman?  Mr.  Hargrove,  by 
uniting  his  interests  with  yours  in  the  West,  will  make  your  for- 
tunes, and  Burt  will  bring  you  a  lovely  sister.  It  pleases  me  to 
see  how  Gertrude  is  learning  to  like  you.  I  used  to  be  provoked 
with  her  at  first,  because  she  didn't  appreciate  you.  Do  you 
know,  I  think  you  ought  to  write?  You  could  make  people 
fall  in  love  with  nature.  Americans  don't  care  half  as  much  for 
out-door  life  and  pursuits  as  the  English.  It  seems  to  me  that 
city  life  cannot  compare  with  that  of  the  country." 

"  You  may  think  differently  after  you  have  been  a  few  weeks 
in  Gertrude's  elegant  home." 

They  had  paused  again  on  the  brow  of  Cro'  Nest,  and  were 
looking  out  on  the  wide  landscape.  "  No,  WTebb,"  she  said ; 
"  her  home,  no  doubt,  is  elegant,  but  it  is  artificial.  This  is 
simple  and  grand,  and  to-day,  seen  through  the  soft  haze,  is 
lovely  to  me  beyond  all  words.  I  honestly  half  regret  that  I 
am  going  to  town.  Of  course,  I  shall  enjoy  myself —  I  always 
do  with  Gertrude  —  but  the  last  few  quiet  weeks  have  been  so 
happy  and  satisfying  that  I  dread  any  change." 

"  Think  of  the  awful  vacuum  that  your  absence  will  make  in 
the  old  home  !  " 


THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN.  463 

"  Well,  I'm  a  little  glad ;  I  want  to  be  missed.  But  I  shall 
write  to  you  and  tell  you  of  all  the  frivolous  things  we  are  doing. 
Besides,  you  must  come  to  see  me  as  often  as  you  can." 

"  I  certainly  shall." 

They  saw  evening  parade,  the  moon  rising  meanwhile  over 
Sugarloaf  Mountain,  and  filling  the  early  twilight  with  a  soft 
radiance.  The  music  seemed  enchanting,  for  their  hearts  were 
attuned  to  it.  As  the  long  line  of  cadets  shifted  their  guns 
from  "  carry  arms  "  to  "  shoulder  arms  "  with  instantaneous 
action,  Webb  said  that  the  muskets  sent  out  a  shivering  sound 
like  that  of  a  tree  almost  ready  to  fall  under  the  last  blows  of 
an  axe. 

Webb  felt  that  should  he  exist  millions  of  ages  he  should 
never  forget  the  ride  homeward.  The  moon  looked  through 
the  haze  like  a  veiled  beauty,  and  in  its  softened  light  Amy's 
pure,  sweet  profile  was  endowe'd  with  ethereal  beauty.  The 
beech-trees,  with  their  bleached  leaves  still  clinging  to  them, 
were  almost  spectral,  and  the  oaks  in  their  bronzed  foliage  stood 
like  black  giants  by  the  roadside.  There  were  suggestive  vistas 
of  light  and  shadow  that  were  full  of  mystery,  making  it  easy 
to  believe  that  on  a  night  like  this  the  mountain  was  haunted 
by  creatures  as  strange  as  the  fancy  could  shape.  The  girl  at 
his  side  was  a  mystery.  Viewless  walls  incased  her  spirit. 
What  were  her  hidden  and  innermost  thoughts  ?  The  supreme 
gift  of  a  boundless  love  overflowed  his  heart  to  his  very  lips. 
She  was  so  near,  and  the  spell  of  her  loveliness  so  strong,  that 
at  times  he  felt  that  he  must  give  it  expression,  but  he  ever 
restrained  himself.  His  words  might  bring  pain  and  consterna- 
tion to  the  peaceful  face.  She  was  alone  with  him,  and  there 
would  be  no  escape  should  he  speak  now.  No ;  he  had  re- 
solved to  wait  till  her  heart  awoke  by  its  own  impulses,  and  he 
would  keep  his  purpose  even  through  the  witchery  of  that 
moonlight  drive.  "  How  strangely  isolated  we  are,"  he  thought, 
"  that  such  feeling  as  mine  can  fill  my  very  soul  with  its  im- 
mense desire,  and  she  not  be  aware  of  anything  but  my  quiet, 
fraternal  manner  !  " 


464  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

As  they  were  descending  the  home  slope  of  the  mountain 
they  witnessed  a  rare  and  beautiful  sight.  A  few  light  clouds 
had  gathered  around  the  moon,  and  these  at  last  opened  in  a 
rift.  The  rays  of  light  through  the  misty  atmosphere  created 
the  perfect  colors  of  a  rainbow,  and  this  phenomenon  took  the 
remarkable  form  of  a  shield,  its  base  resting  upon  one  cloud, 
and  its  point  extending  into  a  little  opening  in  the  cloud  above. 

"  Oh,  what  a  perfect  shield  !  "  cried  Amy.  "  Was  there  ever 
anything  so  strange  and  lovely?" 

Webb  checked  his  horse,  and  they  looked  at  the  vision 
with  wonder.  "  I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  that,"  said 
Webb. 

"Is  it  an  omen,  Webb?"  she  asked,  turning  a  little  from 
him  that  she  might  look  upward,  and  leaning  on  his  shoulder 
with  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child. 

"  Let  us  make  it  one,  dear  sister  Amy,"  he  said,  drawing  her 
nearer  to  him.  "  Let  it  remind  you,  as  you  recall  it,  that  as  far 
as  I  can  I  will  ever  shield  you  from  every  evil  of  life."  As  he 
spoke  the  rainbow  colors  became  wonderfully  distinct,  and  then 
faded  slowly  away.  Pier  head  drooped  lower  on  his  shoulder, 
and  she  said,  dreamily  : 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  never  was  so  happy  before  in  my  life 
as  I  am  now.  You  are  so  different,  and  can  be  so  much  to  me, 
now  that  your  old  absurd  constraint  is  gone.  Oh,  Webb,  "you 
used  to  make  me  so  unhappy  !  You  made  me  feel  that  you 
had  found  me  out  —  how  little  I  knew,  and  that  it  was  a  bore 
to  have  to  talk  with  me  and  explain.  I  know  I'm  not  highly 
educated.  How  could  I  be  ?  I  went  everywhere  with  papa, 
and  he  always  appeared  to  think  of  me  as  a  little  girl.  And 
then  during  the  last  year  or  two  of  his  life  he  was  so  ill  that  I 
did  not  do  much  else  than  watch  over  him  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling, and  try  to  nurse  him  and  beguile  the  hours  that  were  so 
•full  of  pain  and  weakness.  But  I'm  not  contented  to  be  igno- 
rant, and  you  can  teach  me  so  much.  I  fairly  thrill  with  excite- 
ment and  feeling  sometimes  when  you  are  reading  a  fine  or 


THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN.  465 

beautiful  thing.  If  I  can  feel  that  way  I  can't  be  stupid, 
can  I  ?  " 

"  No,  Amy." 

"  Think  how  much  faster  I  could  learn  this  winter  if  you 
would  direct  my  reading,  and  explain  what  is  obscure  !  " 

"  I  will  very  gladly  do  anything  you  wish.  You  underrate 
yourself,  Amy.  You  have  woman's  highest  charm.  There  is 
a  stupidity  of  heart  which  is  far  worse  than  that  of  the  mind,  a 
selfish  callousness  in  regard  to  others  and  their  rights  and  feel- 
ings, which  mars  the  beauty  of  some  women  worse  than  physical 


"woo  WHOO!" 

deformity.  From  the  day  you  entered  our  home  as  a  stranger, 
graceful  tact,  sincerity,  and  the  impulse  of  ministry  have  char- 
acterized your  life.  Can  you  imagine  that  mere  cleverness, 
trained  mental  acuteness,  and  a  knowledge  of  facts  can  take  the 
place  of  these  traits  ?  No  man  can  love  unless  he  imagines  that 
a  woman  has  these  qualities,  and  bitter  will  be  his  disappoint- 
ment if  he  finds  them  wanting." 

Her  laugh  rang  out  musically  on  the  still  air.  "  Hear  the  old 
bachelor  talk  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  beligve  you  have  constructed 
an  ideally  perfect  creature  out  of  nature,  and  that  you  hold 
trysts  with  her  on  moonlight  nights,  you  go  out  to  walk  so  often 


466  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

alone.  Well,  well,  I  won't  be  jealous  of  such  a  sister-in-law, 
but  I  want  to  keep  you  a  little  while  longer  before  you  follow 
Burt's  example." 

"  I  shall  never  give  you  a  sister-in-law,  Amy." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you'll  do.  How  sure  Burt  was  of 
himself!  " 

"  Burt  and  I  are  different." 

"  Yes,  Webb,  you  are.  If  you  ever  love,  it  will  be  for  always ; 
and  I  don't  like  to  think  of  it.  I'd  like  to  keep  you  just  as  you 
are.  Now  that  you  see  how  selfish  I  am,  where  is  woman's 
highest  charm?" 

Webb  laughed,  and  urged  his  horse  into  a  sharp  trot.  "  I  am 
unchangeable  in  my  opinions  too,  as  far  as  you  are  concerned," 
he  remarked.  "  She  is  not  ready  yet,"  was  his  silent  thought. 

When  she  came  down  to  the  late  supper  her  eyes  were  shin- 
ing with  happiness,  and  Maggie  thought  the  decisive  hour  had 
come ;  but  in  answer  to  a  question  about  the  drive,  Amy  said, 
"  I  couldn't  have  believed  that  so  much  enjoyment  was  to  be 
had  in  one  afternoon.  Webb  is  a  brother  worth  having,  and 
•I'm  sorry  I'm  going  to  New  York." 

"Am  I  not  a  brother  worth  having? "  Leonard  asked. 

"Oh,  you  are  excellent,  as  far  as  you  go,  but  you  are  so 
wrapped  up  in  Maggie  that  you  are  not  of  much  account ;  and 
as  for  Burt,  he  is  more  over  head  and  ears  than  you  are.  Even 
if  a  woman  was  in  love,  I  should  think  she  would  like  a  man  to 
be  sensible." 

"  Pshaw,  Amy  !  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about," 
said  Maggie. 

"  Probably  not.  I  suppose  it  is  a  kind  of  disease,  and  that 
all  are  more  or  less  out  of  their  heads." 

"  We've  been  out  of  our  heads  a  good  many  years,  mother, 
haven't  we?"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  laughing. 

"  Well,"  said  Leonard,  "  I  just  hope  Amy  will  catch  the  dis- 
ease, and  have  it  very  bad  some  day." 

"  Thank  you.     When  I  do,  I'll  send  for  Dr.  Marvin." 


THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN.  467 

A  few  days  later  Webb  took  her  to  New  York,  and  left  her 
with  her  friend.  "  Don't  be  persuaded  into  staying  very  long," 
he  found  opportunity  to  say,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Indeed  I  won't ;  I'm  homesick  already ; "  and  she  looked 
after  him  very  wistfully.  But  she  was  mistaken.  Gertrude 
looked  so  hurt  and  disappointed  when  she  spoke  of  returning, 
and  had  planned  so  much,  that  days  lengthened  into  weeks. 


468  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

THE'  ROSE    REVEALS   ITS    HEART. 

WEBB  returned  to  a  region  that  was  haunted.  Wherever 
he  went,  a  presence  was  there  before  him.  In  every 
room,  on  the  lawn,  in  the  garden,  in  lanes  no  longer  shaded, 
but  carpeted  with  brown,  rustling  leaves,  on  mountain  roads, 
he  saw  Amy  with  almost  the  vividness  of  actual  vision,  as  he 
had  seen  her  in  these  places  from  the  time  of  her  first  coming. 
At  church  he  created  her  form  in  her  accustomed  seat,  and  his 
worship  was  a  little  confused.  She  had  asked  him  to  wjite,  and 
he  made  home  life  and  the  varying  aspects  of  nature  real  to  her. 
His  letters,  however,  were  so  impersonal  that  she  could  read 
the  greater  part  of  them  to  Gertrude,  who  had  resolved  to  be 
pleased  out  of  good-will  to  Webb,  and  with  the  intention  of 
aiding  his  cause.  But  she  soon  found  herself  expressing  genu- 
ine wonder  and  delight  at  their  simple,  vigorous  diction,  their 
subtile  humor,  and  the  fine  poetic  images  they  often  suggested. 
"  Oh,  Amy,"  she  said,  "  I  couldn't  have  believed  it.  I  don't 
think  he  himself  is  aware  of  his  power  of  expression." 

"  He  has  read  and  observed  so  much,"  Amy  replied,  "  that 
he  has  much  to  express." 

"  It's  more  than  that,"  said  Gertrude ;  "  there  are  touches 
here  and  there  which  mere  knowledge  can't  account  for. 
They  have  a  delicacy  and  beauty  which  seem  the  result  of  wo- 
man's influence,  and  I  believe  it  is  yours.  I  should  think  you 
would  be  proud  of  him." 

"  I  am,"  she  answered,  with  exultation  and  heightened  color, 


THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART.  469 

"  but  it  seems  absurd  to  suppose  that  such  a  little  ignoramus  as 
I  am  can  help  him  much." 

Meanwhile,  to  all  appearance,  Webb  maintained  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way.  He  had  been  so  long  schooled  in  patience 
that  he  waited  and  hoped  on  in  silence  as  before,  and  busied 
himself  incessantly.  The  last  of  the  corn  was  husked,  and  the 
golden  treasure  stored.  The  stalks  were  stacked  near  the  barn 
for  winter  use,  and  all  the  labors  of  the  year  were  rounded  out 
and  completed.  Twice  he  went  to  the  city  to  see  Amy,  and  on 
one  of  these  occasions  he  was  a  guest  at  a  farge  party  given  in 
her  honor.  During  much  of  the  evening  he  was  dazzled  by  her 
beauty,  and  dazed  by  her  surroundings.  Her  father  had  had 
her  instructed  carefully  in  dancing,  and  she  and  Burt  had  often 
waltzed  together,  but  he  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes  as  she 
appeared  on  the  floor  unsurpassed  in  beauty  and  grace,  her; 
favor  sought  by  all.  Was  that  the  simple  girl  who  on  the  shaggy, 
sides  of  Storm  King  had  leaned  against  his  shoulder  ? 

Miss  Hargrove  gave  him  little  time  for  such  musings.  She,, 
as  hostess,  often  took  his  arm  and  made  him  useful.  The 
ladies  found  him  reserved  rather  than  shy,  but  he  was  not  long; 
among  the  more  mature  and  thoughtful  men  present  before  a. 
knot  gathered  around  him,  and  some  of  Mr.  Hargrove's  more: 
intimate  friends  ventured  to  say,  "There  seems  to  be  plenty  of 
brains  in  the  family  into  which  your  daughter  is  to  enter." 

After  an  hour  or  two  had  passed,  and  Amy  had  not  had  a< 
chance  to  speak  to  him,  he  began  to  look  so  disconsolate  that, 
she  came  and  whispered,  "  What's  the  matter,  old  fellow?  " 

"Oh,  Amy,"  he  replied,  discontentedly,  "I  wish  we  were- 
back  on  Storm  King.  I'm  out  of  place  here." 

"So  do  I,"  she  said,  "and  so  we  will  be  many  a  time  again.. 
But  you  are  not  out  of  place  here.  I  heard  one  lady  remark- 
ing how  'reserved  and  distingue'  you  were,  and  another,"  she: 
added,  with  a  flash  of  her  ever-ready  mirthfulness,  "  said  you. 
were  '  deliciously  homely.'  I  was  just  delighted  with  that  com- 
pliment," and  she  flitted  away  to  join  her  partner  in  the  dance.. 


4/0  NATURES  SERIAL  STORY. 

Webb  brightened  up  amazingly  after  this,  and  before  he  de- 
parted in  the  "  wee  sma'  hours,"  when  the  rooms  were  empty, 
Gertrude  gave  him  a  chance  for  a  brief,  quiet  talk,  which 
proved  that  Amy's  heart  was  still  in  the  Highlands,  even  if  he 
did  not  yet  possess  it. 

Burt  would  not  return  till  late  in  December ;  but  Amy  came 
home  about  the  middle  of  the  month,  and  received  an  ova- 
tion that  was  enough  "  to  turn  any  one's  head,"  she  declared. 
Their  old  quiet  life  was  resumed,  and  Webb  watched  keenly  for 
any  discontent  with  it.  Her  tranquil  satisfaction  was  undoubted. 
"  I've  had  my  little  fling,"  she  said,  "  and  I  suppose  it  was  time 
I  saw  more  of  the  world  and  society,  but  oh,  what  a  refuge  and 
haven  of  rest  the  old  place  is  !  Gertrude  is  lovely,  her  father 
very  gallant  and  polite,  but  Mrs.  Hargrove's  stateliness  op- 
presses me,  and  in  society  I  felt  that  I  had  to  take  a  grain  of 
salt  with  everything  said  to  me.  Gertrude  showed  her  sense  in 
preferring  a  home.  I  was  in  some  superb  houses  in  the  city 
that  did  not  seem  like  home's." 

Webb,  in  his  solicitude  that  the  country-house  should  not 
appear  dull,  found  time  to  go  out  with  her  on  pleasant  days, 
and  to  interest  her  deeply  in  a  course  of  reading.  It  was  a  sea- 
son of  leisure  ;  but  his  mother  began  to  smile  to  herself  as  she 
saw  how  absorbed  he  was  in  his  pupil. 

The  nights  grew  colder,  the  stars  gained  a  frosty  glitter,  the 
ground  was  rock-like,  and  the  ponds  were  covered  with  a  glare 
of  black  ice.  Amy  was  eager  to  learn  to  skate,  and  Webb 
found  his  duty  of  instructor  delightful.  Little  danger  of  her 
falling,  although,  with  a  beginner's  awkwardness,  she  essayed  to 
do  so  often ;  strong  arms  were  ever  near  and  ready,  and  any 
one  would  have  been  glad  to  catch  Amy  in  such  peril. 

They  were  now  looking  fonvard  to  Burt's  return  and  the  holi- 
day season,  which  Gertrude  would  spend  with  them.  Mystery 
lurked^behind  every  door.  Not  merely  the  shops,  but  busy  and 
stealthy  fingers,  would  furnish  the  gifts.  Webb  had  bought  his 
present  for  Amy,  but  had  also  burned  the  midnight  oil  in  the 


THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART.  471 

preparation  of  another  —  a  paper  for  a  magazine,  and  it  had 
been  accepted.  He  had  planned  and  composed  it  while  at 
work  stripping  the  husks  from  the  yellow  corn,  superintending 
the  wood  teams  and  the  choppers  in  the  mountain,  and  aiding 
in  cutting  from  an  adjacent  pond  the  crystal  blocks  of  ice  — 
the  stored  coolness  for  the  coming  summer.  Then  while  others 
thought  him  sleeping  he  wrote  and  rewrote  the  thoughts  he  had 
harvested  during  the  day. 

One  of  his  most  delightful  tasks,  however,  was  in  aiding  Amy 
to  embower  the  old  house  in  wreaths  and  festoons  of  evergreens. 
The  rooms  grew  into  aromatic  bowers.  Autumn  leaves  and 
ferns  gave  to  the  heavier  decorations  a  light,  airy  beauty  which 
he  had  never  seen  before.  Grace  itself  Amy  appeared  as  she 
mounted  the  step-ladder  and  reached  here  and  there,  twining 
and  coaxing  everything  into  harmony. 

What  was  the  effect  of  all  this  companionship  on  her  mind? 
She  least  of  all  could  have  answered :  she  did  not  analyze. 
Each  day  was  full  and  joyous.  She  was  being  carried  forward 
on  a  shining  tide  of  happiness,  and  yet  its  motion  was  so 
even,  quiet,  and  strong  that  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  her 
maidenly  serenity.  If  Webb  had  been  any  one  but  Webb,  and 
if  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  regarding  all  men  as  possible 
admirers,  she  would  have  understood  herself  long  before  this. 
If  she  had  been  brought  up  with  brothers  in  her  own  home  she 
would  have  known  that  she  welcomed  this  quiet  brother  with  a 
gladness  that  had  a  deeper  root  than  sisterly  affection.  But  the 
fact  that  he  was  Webb,  the  quiet,  self- controlled  man  who  had 
called  her  sister  Amy  for  a  year,  made  his  presence,  his  deep 
sympathy  with  her  and  for  her,  seem  natural.  His  approaches 
had  been  so  gradual  that  he  was  stealing  into  her  heart  as  spring 
enters  a  flower.  You  can  never  name  the  first  hour  of  its  pres- 
ence ;  you  take  no  note  of  the  imperceptible  yet  steady  devel- 
opment. The  process  is  quiet,  yet  vital  and  sure,  and  at  last 
there  comes  an  hour  when  the  bud  is  ready  to  open.  That 
time  was  near,  and  Webb  hoped  that  it  was.  His  tones  were 


4/2  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

now  and  then  so  tender  and  gentle  that  she  looked  at  him  a 
little  wonderingly,  but  his  manner  was  quiet  and  far  removed 
from  that  of  the  impetuous  Burt.  There  was  a  warmth  in  it, 
however,  like  the  increasing  power  of  the  sun,  and  in  human 
hearts  bleak  December  can  be  the  spring-time  as  truly  as  May. 

It  was  the  twenty-third  —  one  of  the  stormiest  days  of  a 
stormy  month.  The  snow-flakes  were  whirling  without,  and 
making  many  a  circle  in  the  gale  before  joim'ng  their  innumera- 
ble comrades  that  whitened  the  ground.  The  wind  sighed  and 
soughed  about  the  old  house  as  it  had  done  a  year  before,  but 
Webb  and  Amy  were  armed  against  its  mournfulness.  They 
were  in  the  parlor,  on  whose  wide  hearth  glowed  an  ample  fire. 
Burt  and  Gertrude  were  expected  on  the  evening  train. 

"  Gertie  is  coming  home  through  the  snow  just  as  I  did," 
said  Amy,  fastening  a  spray  of  mistletoe  that  a  friend  had  sent 
her  from  England  to  the  chandelier ;  "  and  the  same  old  warm 
welcome  awaits  her." 

"  What  a  marvellous  year  it  has  been  !  "  Webb  remarked. 

"  It  has,  indeed.  Just  think  of  it !  Burt  is  engaged  to  one 
of  whose  existence  he  did  not  know  a  year  ago.  He  has  been 
out  West,  and  found  that  you  have  land  that  will  make  you  all 
rich." 

"Are  these  the  greatest  marvels  of  the  year,  Amy?" 

"  No,  there  is  a  greater  one.  I  didn't  know  you  a  year  ago 
to-day,  and  now  I  seem  to  have  known  you  always,  you  great 
patient,  homely  old  fellow  — '  deliciously  homely.'  I  shall  never 
get  over  that." 

"The  eyes  of  scores  of  young  fellows  looked  at  you  that 
evening  as  if  you  were  deliciously  handsome." 

"  And  you  looked  at  me  one  time  as  if  you  hadn't  a  friend 
in  the  world,  and  you  wanted  to  be  back  in  your  native  wilds." 

"  Not  without  you,  Amy  ;  and  you  said  you  wished  you  were 
looking  at  the  rainbow  shield  with  me  again." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  say  all  that ;  and  then  I  saw  you  needed  heart- 
ening up  a  little." 


THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART.  4/3 

"I  did  indeed.  You  were  dancing  with  a  terrible  swell,, 
worth,  it  was  said,  half  a  million,  who  was  devouring  you  with 
his  eyes." 

"  I'm  all  here,  thank  you,  and  you  look  as  if  you  were  doing 
some  devouring  yourself.  What  makes  you  look  at  me  so  ?  Is 
there  anything  on  my  face?" 

"  Yes,  some  color,  but  it's  just  as  Nature  arranged  it,  and  you 
know  Nature's  best  work  always  fascinates  me." 

"  What  a  gallant  you  are  becoming  !  There,  don't  you  think 
that  is  arranged  well?"  and  she  stood  beneath  the  mistletoe 
looking  up  critically  at  it. 

"  Let  me  see  if  it  is,"  and  he  advanced  to  her  side.  "This 
is  the  only  test,"  he  said,  and  quick  as  a  flash  he  encircled  her 
with  his  arm  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

She  sprang  aloof  and  looked  at  him  with  dilating  eyes.  He 
had  often  kissed  her  before,  and  she  had  thought  nothing  more 
of  it  than  of  a  brother's  salute.  Was  it  a  subtile,  mysterious 
power  in  the  mistletoe  itself  with  which  it  had  been  endowed 
by  ages  of  superstition  ?  Was  that  kiss  like  the  final  ray  of  the 
June  sun  that  opens  the  heart  of  the  rose  when  at  last  it  is 
ready  to  expand  ?  She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  tremblingly, 
the  color  of  the  rose  mounting  higher  and  higher,  and  deepen- 
ing as  if  the  blood  were  coming  from  the  depths  of  her  heart. 
He  did  not  speak.  In  answer  to  her  wondering,  questioning 
look,  he  only  bent  full  upon  her  his  dark  eyes  that  had  held  hers 
once  before  in  a  moment  of  terror.  She  saw  his  secret  in  their 
depths  at  last,  the  devotion,  the  love?  which  she  herself  had 
unsuspectingly  said  would  "  last  always."  She  took  a  faltering 
step  towards  him,  then  covered  her  burning  face  with  her 
hands. 

"  Amy,"  he  said,  taking  her  gently  in  his  arms,  "  do  you  un- 
derstand me  now?  Dear,  blind  little  girl,  I  have  been  worship- 
ping all  these  months,  and  you  have  not  known  it." 

"I  —  I  thought  you  were  in  love  with  nature,"  she  whispered. 

"So  I  am,  and  you  are  nature  in  its  sweetest  and  highest 


474  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

embodiment.  Every  beautiful  thing  in  nature  has  long  sug- 
gested you  to  me.  Amy,  I  can  wait.  You  shall  have  your  girl- 
hood. It  seems  to  me  now  that  I  have  loved  you  almost  from 
the  first  hour  I  saw  you.  I  have  known  that  I  loved  you  ever 
since  that  June  evening  when  you  left  me  in  the  rose  garden. 
Have  I  not  proved  that  I  can  be  patient  and  wait?" 

She  only  pressed  her  burning  face  closer  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  It's  all  growing  clear  now,"  she  again  whispered.  "  How 
blind  I've  been  !  I  thought  you  were  only  my  brother." 

"  I  can  be  '  only  your  brother,'  if  you  so  wish,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "  Your  happiness  is  my  first  thought." 

She  looked  up  at  him"  shyly,  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a  smile 
hovering  about  her  tremulous  lips.  "  I  don't  think  I  understood 
myself  any  better  than  I  did  you.  I  never  had  a  brother,  and 
—  and  —  I  don't  believe  I  love  you  just  right  for  a  brother ;  " 
and  her  face  was  hidden  again. 

His  eyes  went  up  to  heaven,  as  if  he  meant  that  his  mating 
should  be  recognized  there.  Then  gently  stroking  her  brown 
hair,  he  asked,  "Then  I  sha'n't  have  to  wait,  Amy?" 

"Am  I  keeping  you  waiting,  Webb?"  she  faltered  from  her 
deep  seclusion. 

"  Oh,  that  blessed  mistletoe  ! "  cried  Webb,  lifting  the  dewy, 
flower-like  face  and  kissing  it  again  and  again.  "  You  are  my 
Christmas  gift,  Amy." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  didn't  know,"  began  Mr.  Clif- 
ford from  the  doorway,  and  was  about  to  make  a  hasty  and 
excited  retreat. 

"  Stay,  father  !  "  cried  Webb.  "A  year  ago  you  received  this 
dear  girl  as  your  daughter.  She  has  consented  to  make  the  tie 
closer  still  if  possible." 

The  old  gentleman  took  Amy  in  his  arms  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  "This  is  too  good  to  keep  to  myself  for  a  moment," 
and  he  hastened  the  blushing,  laughing  girl  to  his  wife,  and 
exclaimed,  "  See  what  I've  brought  you  for  a  Christmas  present. 
See  what  that  sly,  silent  Webb  has  been  up  to.  He  has  been 


THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART.  475 

making  love  to  our  Amy  right  under  our  noses,  and  we  didn't 
know  it." 

"  You  didn't  know  it,  father ;  mother's  eyes  are  not  so  blind. 
Amy,  darling,  I've  been  hoping  and  praying  for  this.  You  have 
made  a  good  choice,  my  dear,  if  it  is  his  mother  that  says  it. 
Webb  will  never  change,  and  he  will  always  be  as  gentle  and 
good  to  you  as  he  has  been  to  me." 

"  Well,  "well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "our  cup  is  running 
over,  sure  enough.  Maggie,  come  here,"  he  called,  as  he  heard 
her  step  in  the  hall.  "  Here  is  a  new  relative.  I  once  felt  a 
little  like  grumbling  because  we  hadn't  a  daughter,  and  now  I 
have  three,  and  the  best  and  prettiest  in  the  land.  You  didn't 
know  what  Webb  was  about." 

"  Didn't  I,  Webb  —  as  long  ago  as  last  October,  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Webb,  you  ought  to  have  told  me  first,"  said  Amy, 
reproachfully,  when  they  were  alone. 

"  I  did  not  tell  Maggie ;  she  saw,"  Webb  answered.  Then, 
taking  a  rosebud  which  she  had  been  wearing,  he  pushed  open 
the  petals  with  his  finger,  and  asked,  "  who  told  me  that '  this 
is  no  way  for  a  flower  to  bloom  '  ?  I've  watched  and  waited  till 
your  heart  was  ready,  Amy."  And  so  the  time  flew  in  mutual 
confidences,  and  the  past  grew  clear  when  illumined  by  love. 

"  Poor  old  Webb  !  "  said  Amy,  with  a  mingled  sigh  and 
laugh.  "  There  you  were  growing  as  gaunt  as  a  scarecrow,  and 
I  loving  you  all  the  time.  What  a  little  goose  I  was  !  If  you 
had  looked  at  Gertrude  as  Burt  did  I  should  have  found  myself 
out  long  ago.  Why  hadn't  you  the  sense  to  employ  Burt's 
tactics?" 

"  Because  I  had  resolved  that  nature  should  be  my  sole  ally. 
Was  not  my  kiss  under  the  mistletoe  a  better  way  of  awakening 
my  sleeping  beauty  than  a  stab  of  jealousy?  " 

"  Yes,  Webb,  clear,  patient  Webb.  The  rainbow  shield  was  a 
true  omen,  and  I  am  sheltered  indeed." 


476  .YATCRE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

CHRISTMAS   LIGHTS  AND   SHADOWS. 

T  EOXARD  had  long  since  gone  to  the  depot,  and  now  the 
.L/  chimes  of  his  returning  bells  announced  that  Burt  and 
Gertrude  were  near.  To  them  both  it  was  in  truth  a  coming 
home.  Gertrude  rushed  in,  followed  by  the  exultant  Burt,  her 
brilliant  eyes  and  tropical  beauty  rendered  tenfold  more  effec- 
tive by  the  wintry  twilight  without ;  and  she  received  a  welcome 
that  accorded  with  her  nature.  She  was  hardly  in  Amy's  room, 
which  she  was  to  share,  before  she  looked  in  eager  scrutiny  at 
her  friend.  "What's  in  the  air?",  she  asked.  "What  has 
transfigured  Webb?  Oh,  you  little  wild-flower,  you've  found 
out  that  he  is  saying  his  prayers  to  you  at  last,  have  you  ? 
Evidently  he  hasn't  said  them  in  vain.  You  are  very  happy, 
dear?" 

"  Yes,  happier  than  you  are." 

"  I  deny  that  point-blank.  Oh,  Amy  darling,  I  was  true  to 
you  and  didn't  lose  Burt  either." 

Maggie  had  provided  a  feast,  and  Leonard  beamed  on  the 
table  and  on  every  one,  when  something  in  Webb  and  Amy's 
manner  caught  his  attention.  "This  occasion,"  he  began, 
"  reminds  me  of  a  somewhat  similar  one  a  year  ago  to-morrow 
night.  It  is  my  good  fortune  to  bring  lovely  women  into  this 
household.  My  first  and  best  effort  was  made  when  I  brought 
Maggie.  Then  I  picked  up  a  little  girl  at  the  depot,  and  she 
grew  into  a  tall,  lovely  creature  on  the  way  home,  didn't  she. 
Johnnie?  And  now  to-night  I've  brought  in  a  princess  from 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS. 


477 


the  snow,  and  one  of  these  days  poor  Webb  will  be  captured 
by  a  female  of  the  MacStinger  type,  for  he  will  never  muster  up 
courage  enough  —  What  on  earth  are  yon  all  laughing  about  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Amy,  looking  like  a  peony. 

"You  had  better  put  your  head  under  Maggie's  wing  and 


WINTER  TWILIGHT. 

subside,"  Webb  added.     Then,  putting  his  arm  about  Amy,  he 
asked,  "  Is  this  a  female  of  the  MacStinger  type?" 

Leonard  stared  in  blank  amazement.  "WelJ,"  said  he,  at 
last,  "when  did  this  happen?  I  give  up  now.  The  times  have 
changed.  When  I  was  courting,  the  whole  neighborhood  was 


4/8  '     NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

talking  about  it,  and  knew  I  was  accepted  long  before  I  did. 
Did  you  see  all  this  going  on,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered. 

"  Now,  I  don't  believe  Amy  saw  it  herself,"  cried  Leonard, 
half  desperately,  and  laughter  broke  out  anew. 

"  Oh,  Amy,  I'm  so  glad  !  "  said  Burt,  and  he  gave  her  the 
counterpart  of  the  embrace  that  had  turned  the  bright  October 
evening  black  to  Webb. 

"To  think  that  Webb  should  have  got  such  a  prize  !  "  ejacu- 
lated Leonard.  "  Well,  well,  the  boys  in  this  family  are  in 
luck." 

"  It  will  be  my  turn  next,"  cried  Johnnie. 

"  No,  sir ;  I'm  the  oldest,"  Alf  protested. 

"  Let's  have  supper,"  Ned  remarked,  removing  his  thumb 
from  his  mouth. 

"Score  one  for  Ned,"  said  Burt.  "There  is  at  least  one 
member  of  the  family  whose  head  is  not  turned  by  all  these 
marvellous  events." 

Can  the  sunshine  and  fragrance  of  a  June  day  be  photo- 
graphed? No  more  can  the  light  and  gladness  of  that  long, 
happy  evening  be  portrayed.  Mrs.  Clifford  held  Gertrude's 
hand  as  she  had  Amy's  when  receiving  her  as  a  daughter.  The 
beautiful  girl,  whose  unmistakable  metropolitan  air  was  blended 
with  gentle  womanly  grace,  had  a  strong  fascination  for  the 
invalid.  She  kindled  the  imagination  of  the  recluse,  and  gave 
her  a  glimpse  into  a  world  she  had  never  known. 

"Webb,"  said  Amy,  as  they  were  parting  for  the  night,  "I 
can  see  a  sad,  pale  orphan  girl  clad  in  mourning.  I  can  see 
you  kissing  her  for  the  first  time.  Don't  you  remember?  I 
had  a  strange  little  thrill  at  heart  then,  and  you  said,  '  Come  to 
me,  Amy,  when  you  are  in  trouble.'  There  is  one  thing,  that 
troubles  me  to-night.  All  whom  I  so  dearly  love  know  of  my 
happiness  but  papa.  I  wish  he  knew." 

"  Tell  it  to  .him,  Amy,"  he  answered,  gently,  "  and  tell  it  to 
God." 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS.         4/9 

There  were  bustle  and  renewed  mystery  on  the  following  day. 
Astonishing-looking  packages  were  smuggled  from  one  room  to 
another.  Ned  created  a  succession  of  panics,  and  at  last  the 
ubiquitous  and  garrulous  little  urchin  had  to  be  tied  into  a 
chair.  Johnnie  and  Alf  were  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  antici- 
pation, and  when  Webb  brought  Amy  a  check  for  fifty  dollars, 
and  told  her  that  it  was  the  proceeds  of  his  first  crop  from  his 
brains,  and  that  she  must  spend  the  money,  she  went  into  Mr. 
Clifford's  room  waving  it  as  if  it  were  a  trophy  such  as  no  knight 
had  ever  brought  to  his  lady-love. 

"  Of  course,  I'll  spend  it,"  she  cried.  "  I  know  just  how  to 
spend  it.  It  shall  go  into  books  that  we  can  read  together. 
What's  that  agricultural  jargon  of  yours,  Webb,  about  returning 
as  much  as  possible  to  the  soil  ?  We'll  return  this  to  the  soil," 
she  said,  kissing  his  forehead,  "  although  I  think  it  is  too  rich 
for  me  already." 

In  the  afternoon  she  and  Webb,  with  a  sleigh  well  laden, 
drove  into  the  mountains  on  a  visit  to  Lumley.  He  had  re- 
paired the  rough,  rocky  lane  leading  through  the  wood  to  what 
was  no  longer  a  wretched  hovel.  The  inmates  had  been  ex- 
pecting this  visit,  and  Lumley  rushed  bareheaded  out-of-doors 
the  moment  he  heard  the  bells.  Although  he  had  swept  a  path 
from  his  door  again  and  again,  the  high  wind  would  almost 
instantly  drift  in  the  snow.  Poor  Lumley  had  never  heard  of 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  or  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  he  had  given  his 
homage  to  a  better  queen,  and  with  loyal  impulse  he  instantly 
threw  off  his  coat,  and  laid  it  on  the  snow,  that  Amy  might 
walk  dry-shod  into  the  single  room  that  formed  his  home.  She 
and  Webb  smiled  significantly  at  each  other,  and  then  the 
young  girl  put  her  hand  into  that  of  the  mountaineer  as  he 
helped  her  from  the  sleigh,  and  said  "  Merry  Christmas  ! "  with 
a  smile  that  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  grateful  man. 

"Yer  making  no  empty  wish,  Miss  Amy.  I  never  thought 
sich  a  Christinas  'ud  ever  come  to  me  or  mine.  But  come  in, 
come  in  out  of  the  cold  wind,  an'  see  how  you've  changed 


480  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

everything.  Go  in  with  her,  Mr.  Webb,  an'  I'll  tie  an'  blanket 
your  hoss.  Lord,  to  think  that  sich  a  May  blossom  'ud  go 
into  my  hut !  " 

They  entered,  and  Mrs.  Lumley,  neatly  clad  in  some  dark 
woollen  material,  made  a  queer,  old-fashioned  courtesy  that  her 
husband  had  had  her  practice  for  the  occasion.  But  the  baby, 
now  grown  into  a  plump,  healthy  child,  greeted  her  benefactress 
with  nature's  own  grace,  crowing,  laughing,  and  calling,  "  Pitty 
lady ;  nice  lady,"  with  exuberant  welcome.  The  inmates  did 
not  now  depend  for  precarious  warmth  upon  two  logs,  reaching 
across  a  dirty  floor  and  pushed  together,  but  a  neat  box,  painted 
green,  was  filled  with  billets  of  wood.  The  carpeted  floor  was 
scrupulously  clean,  and  so  was  the  bright  new  furniture.  A  few 
evergreen  wreaths  hung  on  the  walls  with  the  pictures  that 
Amy  had  given,  and  on  the  mantel  was  her  photograph  —  poor 
Lumley's  patron  saint. 

Webb  brought  in  his  armful  of  gifts,  and  Amy  took  the  child 
on  her  lap  and  opened  a  volume  of  dear  old  "  Mother  Goose," 
profusely  illustrated  in  colored  prints  —  that  classic  that  appeals 
alike  to  the  hearts  of  children,  whether  in  mountain  hovels  or 
city  palaces.  The  man  looked  on  as  if  dazed.  "  Mr.  Webb," 
he  said,  in  his  loud  whisper,  "  I  once  saw  a  picter  of  the  Virgin 
and  child.  Oh,  golly,  how  she  favors  it  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Lumley,"  Amy  began,  "  I  think  your  housekeeping 
does  you  much  credit.  I've  not  seen  a  neater  room  any- 
where." 

"  Well,  mum,  my  'ole  man's  turned  over  a  new  leaf  sure  nuff. 
There's  no  livin'  with  him  unless  everythink  is  jes  so,  an'  I  guess 
it's  better  so,  too.  Ef  I  let  things  git  slack,  he  gits  mighty 
savage." 

"You  must  try  to  be  patient,  Mr.  Lumley.  You've  made 
great  changes  for  the  better,  but  you  must  remember  that  old 
ways  can't  be  broken  up  in  a  moment." 

"  Lor'  bless  yer,  Miss  Amy,  there's  nothink  like  breakin'  off 
short,  there's  nothink  like  turnin'  the  corner  sharp,  and  fightin' 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS.         481 

the  devil  tooth  and  nail.  It's  an  awful  tussle  at  first,  an'  I 
thought  I  was  goin'  to  knuckle  under  more'n  once.  So  I  would 
ef  it  hadn't  'a  ben  fer  you,  but  you  give  me  this  little  han', 
Miss  Amy,  an'  looked  at  me  as  if  I  wa'n't  a  beast,. an'  it's  ben 
a  liftin'  me  up  ever  sence.  Oh,  I've  had  good  folks  talk  at  me 
an'  lecter,  an'  I've  ben  in  jail,  but  'it  all  on'y  made  me  mad. 
The  best  on  'em  wouldn't  'a  teched  me  no  more  than  they 
would  a  rattler,  sich  as  we  killed  on  the  mountain.  But  you 
guv  me  yer  han',  Miss  Amy,  an'  thar's  mine  on  it  agin ;  I'm 
goin'  to  be  a  man." 

She  took  the  great  horny  palm  in  both  her  hands.  "  You 
make  me  very  happy,"  she  said,  simply,  looking  at  him  above 
the  head  of  his  child,  "  and  I'm  sure  your  wife  is  going  to  help 
you.  I  shall  enjoy  the  holidays  far  more  for  this  visit.  You've 
told  us  good  news,  and  we've  got  good  news  for  you  and  your 
wife.  Tell  him,  Webb." 

"  Yes,  Lumley,"  said  Webb,  clapping  the  man  on  the  shoulder, 
"famous  news.  This  little  girl  has  been  helping  me  just  as 
much  as  she  has  you,  and  she  has  promised  to  help  me  through 
life.  One  of  these  days  we  shall  have  a  home  of  our  own,  and 
you  shall  have  a  cottage  near  it,  and  the  little  girl  here  that 
you've  named  Amy  shall  go  to  school  and  have  a  better  chance 
than  you  and  your  wife  have  had." 

"  Oh,  goshwalader  ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  almost  breaking 
out  into  a  hornpipe.  "  The  Lord  on'y  knows  what  will  happen 
ef  things  once  git  a  goin'  right !  Mr.  Webb,  thar's  my  han' 
agin'.  Ef  yer'd  gone  ter  heaven  fer  her,  yer  couldn't  'a  got 
sich  a  gell.  Well,  well,  give  me  a  chance  on  yer  place,  an'  I'll 
work  fer  yer  all  the  time,  even  nights  an'  Sundays." 

It  was  hard  for  them  to  get  away.  The  child  dropped  her 
books  and  toys,  and  clung  to  Amy.  "  She  knows  yer ;  she 
knows  all  about  yer,"  said  the  delighted  father.  "Well,  ef  yer 
must  go,  yer'll  take  suthin'  with  us  ;  "  and  from  a  great  pitcher 
of  milk  he  filled  several  goblets,  and  they  all  drank  to  the  health 
of  little  Amy.  "  Yer'll  fin'  half-dozen  pa'triges  under  the  seat, 


482  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Miss  Amy,"  he  said,  as  they  drove  away.  "  I  was  bound  I'd 
have  some  kind  of  a  present  fer  yer." 

She  waved  her  hand  back  to  him,  and  saw  him  standing 
bareheaded  in  the  cutting  wind,  looking  after  her. 

"  Poor  old  Lumley  was  right,"  said  Webb,  drawing  her  to 
him  ;  "  I  do  feel  as  if  I  had  received  my  little  girl  from  heaven. 
We  will  give  those  people  a  chance,  and  try  to  turn  the  law  of 
heredity  in  the  right  direction." 

In  the  twilight  of  that  evening,  Mr.  Alvord  sat  over  his  lonely 
hearth,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  The  day  had  been  terribly 
long:  and  torturing ;  memory  had  presented,  like  mocking  spec- 
tres, his  past  and  what  it  might  have  been.  A  sense  of  loneli- 
ness, a  horror  of  great  darkness,  overwhelmed  him.  Nature 
had  grown  cold  and  forbidding,  and  was  losing  its  power  to 
solace.  Johnnie,  absorbed  in  her  Christmas  preparations,  had 
not  been  to  see  him  for  a  long  time.  He  had  gone  to  inquire 
after  her  on  the  previous  evening,  and  through  the  lighted  win- 
dows of  the  Clifford  home  had  seen  a  picture  that  had  made 
his  own  abode  appear  desolate  indeed.  In  despairing  bitter- 
ness he  had  turned  away,  feeling  that  that  happy  home  was  no 
more  a  place  for  him  than  was  heaven.  He  had  wandered  out 
into  the  storm  for  hours,  like  a  lost  spirit,  and  at  last  had  re- 
turned and  slept  in  utter  exhaustion.  On  the  morning  preceding 
Christmas  memory  awoke  with  him,  and  as  night  approached 
he  was  sinking  into  sullen,  dreary  apathy. 

There  was  a  light  tap  at  the  door,  but  he  did  not  hear  it.  A 
child's  face  peered  in  at  his  window,  and  Johnnie  saw  him 
cowering  over  his  dying  fire.  She  had  grown  accustomed  to 
his  moods,  and  had  learned  to  be  fearless,  for  she  had  banished 
his  evil  spells  before.  Therefore  she  entered  softly,  laid  down 
her  bundles,  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  Mr.  Alvord  ! "  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
He  started  up,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  flickering  blaze  rose 
on  the  hearth,  and  revealed  the  sunny-haired  child  standing 
beside  him.  If  an  angel  had  come,  the  effect  could  not  have 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS.         483 

been  greater.  Like  all  who  are  morbid,  he  was  largely  under 
the  dominion  of  imagination ;  and  Johnnie,  with  her  fearless, 
gentle,  commiserating  eyes,  had  for  him  the  potency  of  a  super- 
natural visitor.  But  the  healthful,  unconscious  child  had  a 
better  power.  Her  words  and  touch  brought  saneness  as  well 
as  hope. 

"Why,  Mr.  Alvord,"  she  cried,  "were  you  asleep?  See! 
your  fire  is  going  out,  and  your  lamp  is  not  lighted,  and  there 
is  nothing  ready  for  your  supper.  What  a  queer  man  you  are, 
for  one  who  is  so  kind  !  Mamma  said  I  might  come  and  spend 
a  little  of  Christmas-eve  with  you,  and  bring  my  gifts,  and  then 
that  you  would  bring  me  home.  I  know  how  to  fix  up  your  fire 
and  light  your  lamp.  Then  we'll  get  supper  together.  Won't 
that  be  fun?"  and  she  bustled  around,  the  embodiment  of 
beautiful  life. 

"  Oh,  Johnnie  !  "  he  said,  taking  her  sweet  face  in  his  hands, 
and  looking  into  her  clear  eyes,  "  Heaven  must  have  sent  you. 
I  was  so  lonely  and  sad  that  I  wished  I  had  never  lived." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Alvord  !  and  on  Christmas-eve,  too  ?  See  what 
I've  brought  you,"  and  she  opened  a  book  with  the  angels' 
song  of  "  peace  and  good-will  "  illustrated.  "  Mamma  says 
that  whoever  believes  that  ought  to  be  happy,"  said  the  child. 
"  Don't  you  believe  it?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  true  for  those  who  are  like  you  and  your  mother." 

She  leaned  against  him,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
pictures.  "  Mr.  Alvord,  mamma  said  the  song  was  for  you,  too. 
Of  course,  mamma's  right.  What  else  did  He  come  for  but  to 
help  people  who  are  in  trouble?  I  read  stories  about  Him 
every  Sunday  to  mamma,  and  He  was  always  helping  people 
who  were  in  trouble,  and  who  had  done  wrong.  That's  why  we 
are  always  glad  on  Christmas.  You  look  at  the  book  while  I 
set  your  table." 

He  did  look  at  it  till  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  and 
like  a  sweet  refrain  came  the  words,  "  A  little  child  shall  lead 
them." 


484  NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY. 

Half  an  hour  later  Leonard,  with  a  kindly  impulse,  thought 
he  would  go  to  take  by  the  hand  Johnnie's  strange  friend,  and 
see  how  the  little  girl  was  getting  on.  The  scene  within,  as  he 
passed  the  window,  checked  his  steps.  Johnnie  sat  at  the  foot 
of  Mr.  Alvord's  table,  pouring  tea  for  him,  chattering  meanwhile 
with  a  child's  freedom,  and  the  hermit  was  looking  at  her  with 
such  a  smile  on  his  haggard  face  as  Leonard  had  never  seen 
there.  He  walked  quietly  home,  deferring  his  call  till  the 
morrow,  feeling  that  Johnnie's  spell  must  not  be  broken. 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Alvord  put  Johnnie  down  at  her  home,  for 
he  had  insisted  on  carrying  her  through  the  snow,  and  for  the 
first  time  kissed  her,  as  he  said, 

"  Good-by.  You,  to-night,  have  been  like  one  of  the  angels 
that  brought  the  tidings  of  '  peace  and  good-will.'  " 

"  I'm  sorry  for  him,  mamma  !  "  said  the  little  girl,  after  tell- 
ing her  story,  "  for  he's  very  lonely,  and  he's  such  a  queer,  nice 
man.  Isn't  it  funny  that  he  should  be  so  old,  and  yet  not  know 
why  we  keep  Christmas?" 

Amy  sang  again  the  Christmas  hymn  that  her  own  father  and 
the  father  who  had  adopted  her  had  loved  so  many  years  before. 
"  My  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  as  he  was  fondly  bidding  her 
good-night,  "  how  sweetly  you  have  fulfilled  the  hopes  you 
raised  one  year  ago  !  " 

Mrs.  Clifford  had  gone  to  her  room,  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
Gertrude.  As  the  invalid  kissed  her  in  parting,  she  said : 

"  You  have  beautiful  eyes,  my  dear,  and  they  have  seen  far 
more  of  the  world  than  mine,  but,  thank  God,  they  are  clear 
and  true.  Keep  them  so,  my  child,  that  I  may  welcome  you 
again  to  a  better  home  than  this." 

Once  more  "  the  old  house  stood  silent  and  dark  in  the  pallid 
landscape."  The  winds  were  hushed,  as  if  the  peace  within 
had  been  breathed  into  the  very  heart  of  Nature,  and  she,  too, 
could  rest  in  her  wintry  sleep.  The  moon  was  obscured  by  a 
veil  of  clouds,  and  the  outlines  of  the  trees  were  faint  upon  the 
snow.  A  shadowy  form  drew  near ;  a  man  paused,  and  looked 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS.         485 

upon  the  dwelling.  "  If  the  angels'  song  could  be  heard  any- 
where to-night,  it  should  be  over  that  home,"  Mr.  Alvord  mur- 
mured ;  but,  even  to  his  morbid  fancy,  the  deep  silence  of  the 
night  remained  unbroken.  He  returned  to  his  home,  and  sat 
down  in  the  firelight.  A  golden-haired  child  again  leaned  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  asked,  "  What  else  did  He  come  for  but  to 
help  people  who  are  in  trouble,  and  who  have  done  wrong?" 
He  started  up.  Was  it  a  voice  deep  in  his  own  soul  that  was 
longing  to  escape  from  evil?  or  was  it  a  harmony  far  away  in 
the  sky,  that  whispered  of  peace  at  last?  That  message  from 
heaven  is  clearest  where  the  need  is  greatest. 

Mr.  Hargrove's  home  was  almost  a  palace,  but  its  stately 
rooms  were  desolate  on  Christmas-eve.  He  wandered  rest- 
lessly through  their  magnificence.  He  paid  no  heed  to  the 
costly  furniture  and  costlier  works  of  art.  "Trurie  was  right," 
he  muttered.  "  What  power  have  these  things  to  satisfy  when 
the  supreme  need  of  the  heart  is  unsatisfied  ?  It  seems  as  if  I 
could  not  sleep  to-night  without  seeing  her.  There  is  no  use  in 
disguising  the  truth  that  I'm  losing  her.  Even  on  Christmas- 
eve  she  is  absent.  It's  late,  and  since  I  cannot  see  her,  I'll  see 
her  gift ;  "  and  he  went  to  her  room,  where  she  had  told  him 
to  look  for  her  remembrance.  To  his  surprise,  he  found  that, 
according  to  her  secret  instructions,  it  was  lighted.  He  entered 
the  dainty  apartment,  and  saw  the  glow  of  autumn  leaves  and 
the  airy  grace  of  ferns  around  the  pictures  and  windows.  He 
started,  for  he  almost  saw  herself,  so  true  was  the  life-size  and 
life-like  portrait  that  smiled  upon  him.  Beneath  it  were  the 
words,  "  Merry  Christmas,  papa  !  You  have  not  lost  me  ;  you 
have  only  made  me  happy." 

The  moon  is  again  rising  over  old  Storm  King ;  the  crystals 
that  cover  the  white  fields  and  meadows  are  beginning  to  flash 
in  its  rays ;  the  great  pine  by  the  Clifford  home  is  sighing  and 
moaning.  What  heavy  secret  has  the  old  tree  that  it  can  sigh 
with  such  a  group  near  as  is  now  gathered  beneath  it  ?  Burl's 


486  XA'I'L'JtE'S  SERIAL   STORY. 

black  horse  rears  high  as  he  reins  him  in,  that  Gertrude  may 
spring  into  the  cutter,  then  speeds  away  like  a  shadow  through 
the  moonlight.  Webb's  steed  is  strong  and  quiet,  like  himself, 
and  as  tireless.  Amy  steps  to  Webb's  side,  feeling  it  to  be  her 
place  in  very  truth.  Sable  Abram  draws  up  next,  with  the  great 
family  sleigh,  and  in  a  moment  Alf  is  perched  beside  him. 
Then  Leonard  half  smothers  Johnnie  and  Ned  under  the  robes, 
and  Maggie,  about  to  pick  her  way  through  the  snow,  finds  her- 
self taken  up  in  strong  arms,  like  one  of  the  children,  and  is 
with  them.  The  chime  of  bells  dies  away  in  the  distance. 
Wedding-bells  will  be  their  echo. 

The  merry  Christmas-day  has  passed.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barkdale,  and  other  friends  have  come 
and  gone  with  their  greetings ;  the  old  people  are  left  alone 
beside  their  cheery  fire. 

"  Here  we  are,  mother,  all  by  ourselves,  just  as  we  were  once 
before  on  Christmas  night,  when  you  were  as  fair  and  blooming 
as  Amy  or  Gertrude.  Well,  my  dear,  the  long  journey  seems 
short  to-night.  I  suppose  the  reason  is  that  you  have  been 
such  good  company." 

"  Dear  old  father,  the  journey  would  have  been  long  and 
weary  indeed,  had  I  not  had  your  strong  arm  to  lean  upon,  and 
a  love  that  didn't  fade  with  my  roses.  There  is  only  one  short 
journey  before  us  now,  father,  and  then  we  shall  know  fully  the 
meaning  of  the  '  good  tidings  of  great  joy '  forever." 


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